


All That Sparkles

by IzzyMarrie



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7364530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IzzyMarrie/pseuds/IzzyMarrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Monsters . . Humans . . with all that separates them, so much more binds them together.</p>
  <p>The key elements that make up a soul,<br/>it's up to the children whether there'll be a discord of harmony,<br/>or if an act of kindness could save us all.</p>
  <p>After-all, there is a darkness that threatens to swallow us whole . .</p>
  <p>Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,<br/>a theory put to the test as time and again, our lives repeat.</p>
  <p>With every act, they will learn, that all that sparkles is―</p>
  <p>"What Was Left Behind"<br/>"What You Try To Leave Behind"<br/>"What Gets Left Behind"<br/>"So All That Remains (Beginning of―)"<br/>"Is Never Gold (The End)"</p>
  <p>After-all, an act of mercy could be the start of something greater.</p>
  <p>But is it really salvation which we see҉k?̢</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <b><br/></b><br/><i>,,new ,,2g9n+s `4 `4 ,,-m;e `4 `4 ,,/r+ ,,!ory `4 `4 ,,h{ ,,6,,feel `4 `4</i><br/><br/></p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Was Left Behind

## "What Was Left Behind"

**written by** : Sara Hervey 

(aka [IzzyMarrie](http://izzymarrie.deviantart.com/) , also 'The Major')

**characters from Undertale  
**  Undertale © Toby Fox

 

Intro:  
Their lives were never meant to repeat,  
but somewhere deep beneath the mountain,  
three souls in particular  
find there's a number of things  
left behind each and every time their world resets.

When you have to ask yourself,  
"Does what I do even matter?"  
how long would it take you to lose yourself,  
and not care at all?

Or just maybe, with an act of kindness,  
would you try and piece together  
the shattered remnants of another,  
even at the risk of getting yourself cut?

**After-all, it's not always the memories,  
**

  **that get left behind.**

**  
  
**

 

( ;  **Convergence  **: (

 

 

        "so.. kid..." 

        Darkness surrounds you . .  Your eyes flutter open at the sound of a voice.

        "there's been somethin i've been wantin to ask."

        It doesn't click right away, the fact you were spoken to.  However, the feeling of being stuck in a void, emptiness all around . . it's familiar, and you decide that you hate it instantly.  You're on a disconnect, hazy and swimming.  Letting out a low moan, you try and take in your surroundings, but it's taking too much concentration to just _breathe._   In fact, it's getting even harder.  It's painful!

        _"How did I get here?"_ and _"Where am I?  Why is it so cold.."_ are all you can think about.   _"Why..whywhywhy..."_  It's tempting to shout the answer, but more amusing to play the fool.  It's too _hard_ to understand, but it's not like you _really_ want to.

        "just . . i guess just tell me now.  show me some mercy will ya, for old time sake?  save me some trouble in my own head?"  
  
        You tense.  That voice is so familiar.  You misplace the memory, grinding your teeth, shutting your eyes . .  It works.  For _now._

        "heh, from the look on your face . . you know _exactly_ what i'm talking about . . don'tcha?"  
  
        _"No.."_ you think to yourself, you don't.  You _don't_ know.  You were outside that cute little town― _("Yes, the one where you get all those strange looks..")_ ―whenthe sound of crunching snow crept up behind you, but you kept walking.  At the sound of a snapping twig, however, you twirled around only to find _nothing._  There was **nothing** there but the wind and your guilt and the distant town you were trying to protect.  
  
        You held your hands at your side.  Like a statue frozen in place, devoid of emotion, you stared into the distance with an eerie calm. _"Is it getting colder?"_ you wondered, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you could at any moment decide to go back and _feel_ their dust rubbing between your thumbs.  It was callous, yet not so much so that you wouldn't have stopped it from happening any other day.  
  
         You covered your ears and stared at the ground, the memory etched by hands speaking more than words ever could.  Rocking on your heels, you started to think about the reason the weather could be so dramatic underground.  Was it just angry with you?  Maybe it was scared and that was why it was so cold?  It was going to try and freeze you, but that was okay, you'd already decided to forgive it.  You could just make a snow angel and forget why your life sucked so badly if you could just . . but the next thing you knew, your phone was ringing, and then the next―  
  
        "then again, there's always something different about you each time we meet.  or maybe i'm just making excuses.  after-all, you even managed to fool me, and that's saying something, pal.   **i gave up on hope** **_l o n g_**    ** _a g o . . ."_**  
  
        A blue sweater, no, _jacket . ._  you try and shake the memory, but it keeps coming back.  It _wants_ to come back, desperately, and you do everything you can to stop it.  It hurts to breathe, it hurts to think, but there's something wrong and you have to figure it out before . . before what?  What's going to happen to you?  This is new!   _("You can't predict the outcome, and it's scaring you to know you can't fight this without―")_  
  
        "NO!!" you shout, frantically trying to squirm, but to no avail.  There's just no way.  A pressure is adding weight to your fragile body and keeping you from escape.  That knowledge is making you panic, wheezing out in pain as your voice hitches.  Each breath is a challenge.  You suck in hoping to win enough air to keep you from what you KNOW will come next.  Shallow, quick, in truth, you're hyperventilating, earning you a light, sadistic chuckle from the other in the room.  Held down by his magic, you dare not think about 'why' he is doing this . .  
  
        Why . . _why . ._  you **know** **_why . ._** **but you _d a r e_ not think it.**  
  
        The only thing you want to know is _**WHY**_  is it so cold, and _should_ it be this cold?  You can't get your legs or arms to move, and so, did _they_ decide to forget you too?  It's making you shake.  You're trembling in delirium, and it makes an interesting sight as you writhe on the ground.  The monster takes a step.  You cry out.  His bones start to rattle.  He's shaking, almost as much as you.  
  
        Behind closed eyelids, you try and imagine that you fell asleep by the river and that someone will be waking you up soon to give you a blanket.  The idea of a warm blanket . . it fills you with determination, before robbing you of all sense as tears sting your eyes.  Your heart hurts, down to the core, and it shatters the very soul that refuses to fully break and let you **_DIE._**  
  
        The sound of footsteps is coming close, _TOO CLOSE!_   You let out a cry, and try to struggle again.  It's weak, pathetic, like you're not even _t r y i n g_  anymore.  You see it.  You admit it.  The blue glow . . it's magic holding you down.  Magic that you remembered hearing about on the surface, magic that you were taught wasn't real and that only existed in story books.  Blue is the color of sadness and judgement and the color of Sa―  
  
        "NO!!  S-stop it!"  Weak and pathetic, you start to cry again.  It resonates with me, our souls intertwine and synchronize . .  
  
        My arms reach from the darkness and drape around your shoulders, caressing you like I would myself on lonely days . .  
  
         **"I  can _S A V E  you . . ."_** I say, slowly, and your eyes shoot open at the sound of my voice.  You quickly look into the darkness to see if your friend heard me, but _**they**_ cannot hear voices outside time and space.  That is a power reserved for the dead, and those who are beyond special.  
  
         **"Call out my name . .Let me―"**  
  
        "NOO!!!" you scream, flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water as the blue glow around you lifts up just enough to allow you a modest struggle.  "PLEASE don't. _PLEASE_ _don't.."_  
  
        A moment passes before the other in the room attempts to speak.  I chuckle.  
  
        _("But isn't_ this _what you wanted? **Did you think you were ABOVE consequence?")**_  
  
        "they . . had _faith_ in you, but to be frank?  you and me both know you don't care.  i think the worse part of it is that ain't no one i known enjoyed taking a life . . that is, until i met you, and i just can't seem to figure you out, kid.  there's no other point to me breaking 'script', that is, other than satisfying my curiosity.  because i _can."_  
  
        "S-Sans . . ?" you cry out, but your pleas sound too much like a confession that is too hilarious for that bastard to hear.  Your games _are_  the worst, after-all, and it isn't just  ** _smiley_**   who sees that.  
  
        "that's right . . _**i  r e m e m b e r .**_   mettaton should set you up a gig, get you your own show, but kid, i'm telling ya, you'll have to LIVEN up the audience a little.  get it?  because you KILL everyone with your sick jokes!"  
  
        I place my hand on your soul, wrapping my fingers around it as you wince in pain.  
  
        _("You KNOW what you want to do.  I KNOW what it is that lies in your soul, but you don't want to admit that you're_ **worse** _than the monsters of lore.  The monsters who are in truth, innocent, and who are trapped here, are more sweet, more kind, more forgiving than_ **you** _could ever be.  Doesn't that make you sick?")_  
  
        "Wh- _at..?"_  Your voice is meek, raising an octave as you try and imitate the mice scurrying about the grotto . .  Wait, that's _not_ what you're trying to do?  
  
        " _Maybe . . he doesn't_ want _to hurt me?"_ Determination fills you to the brim, the deliriously STUPID thought bringing back some sick nostalgia for the broken timelines YOU were responsible for destroying.  
  
        "I don't . . I don't want to _fight_ you," you say.  
  
        _("Hoping that the naivety all monsters seem to share will reach him?")_  
  
        _"That's not_ ― _"_  
  
        _("Oh, so he's_ not _naive?  Then what, **stupid?")**_  
  
        The lights cut on in a snap, and you gasp, shaking as you wait for your punishment to come.  Yet still . . despite all this, you're _far_ too stubborn to let go of that _**ridiculous**_ fantasy of yours, that small sliver of _hope_ that you haven't irreversibly  ** _damaged_**  EVERYTHING beyond repair.  
  
        You can hardly see past your hands, your legs, and there's just something sickeningly familiar about that blue glow . . .  
  
        _("Isn't this sweet?  No? **That's a surprise.**  Want to know what isn't?  How you keep holding onto that thing called 'hope', because isn't that what you were taught?   **Isn't that all you know**_ **― _?")_**  
  
        "Please..stop―!"  
  
        _("You always_ do _what you're told, right?_   **No . .**   **but isn't it _nice_ to have someone to blame?**  We're not so different, you and I. ** _We_ do _what we're taught but_ only _what suits us best.")_**  
  
        And suddenly, you feel a pressure on your throat, and you can't call for help, and when were you able to breathe again?!  You STUPIDLY realize that the pressure on your chest was released only to come right back, but that's YOUR fault now, ISN'T IT!?  But  _ **you're**_ the child of mercy.   _ **Y** **ou're**_ their angel of redemption and freedom they were all searching for, and you **TRY** to call out, but **_NO ONE EVEN CARES!_**  
  
        "S-s-stop! . . it . . _p-lea-se―?"_ you squeak, and I rest my chin on your shoulder and stare at the enemy approaching.  
  
        "oh jeeze kid, no one's peeling any onions in here, so i don't know what you're crying for."  
  
        Dispassionate, **_stupid,_** the skeleton monster stares blankly at you with that grin of his, the one that's  _always_ plastered on his face.  You think about how mad he sounds, and I think about how we _**g a v e** _ him a reason to be mad, but then you go back to thinking how you were doing everything right this time.  
  
         _("But you can't keep going back to fix things, stupid!  But you knew that after what, the third or fourth time?  You didn't want to think they could remember anything, and you were **selfish** enough to want to see them again and **again, in any and EVERY way that you could.** **I'm** **NOT the bad one here . . .")**_  
  
**** You decide to look at him.  You feel my nails scraping your neck.  This is a mess of your own making, and you smile in resignation, a tear falling down your cheek as a drop of blood falls down my own.  
  
        **_("There's no escape.  We'll kill everybody in the world.")_  
  
**

 

***** ***** ***** **A̠̘̱̱** **n** xi͚̹͝e̞̜̥̫̖ͅ **t͏̯̯̺̗̩͔̰y̻͕̜̻  ** ***** * *****

 

 

        Looking down at the face of Death . . it's almost hard to believe that the face of such a freak could be a _kid,_ let alone one that deep down . . another time, I had hoped . . . 

        But that's done and over with.  It took a while, scratch that, it _feels_ like it took forever before I finally mustered up the courage to step forward.  I have this kid at my mercy.  I could kill them at any moment.  I've never enjoyed taking a life, but this kid's a  _whole_ other story.  What does that say about me?  Well, I'm not a whole lot better.

        The kid is smiling up at me, but there's something broken about their expression.  It's a lie, and I know it.  If I show them mercy, it could all end.  I never know when, but if it doesn't reset . . there's just some things I can't afford not to care about, and this is one of them.  With that on my mind, all I know is, until they die . . the world will stay the same.  I can keep everyone from dying if I just stay strong.

        But that shouldn't be a problem right now.  I think I take a little more glee than I should from this, holding the anomaly's life at my fingertips . .  Remembering what it was like to feel their blood pooling 'neath their smashed head . . I look down at them, hatefully.  I remember how tired I was, wondering if all humans shared this level of hate deep inside them, or if this kid was some sort of demon.  This human, this damn _thing_ took everything I ever had.  No one survived, several times over.  I'm just left with the memories, and not a single scar seems to be on them.  

        It leaves me tired, and that will probably never change.  After-all, the more you kill, the easier it gets to disconnect from the empathy that keeps compassion alive.  Maybe the kid's a demon, maybe they're not, but I think the longer I know them, the more I'm becoming one myself.

        "that's enough . . ."  Seeing the kid cry, it feels like hell.  Yet, I must not really care that much.  I keep moving forward, seeing the kid shrink down and stare up at me with their wide eyes.  I feel power.  I feel like for once, _I'm_ in control.  "kiddo, back to my question."

        The little brat goes silent, which is good.  Unless spoken to, I really am not in the mood to hear them cry anymore, let alone try and say somethin.  "is that _you_ playing all these games?"

        I watch the kid's expression change, just like the first couple times I remember meeting them.  Time and again, different circumstance, different life, different time . . but it's all the same.  Just like any little kid― _(somehow, saying it like that . . feels wrong, but it's true)_ ―just like any child, they have this way of telling you if they're lying just by their face.

        I feel my stomach knotting up.  The stupid person that I am, my insides twist at the thought of using my magic to toss them in the air and smash them around a little.  It's sick, needless to say, but I won't fight the little bit of feeling I have left in this world.  Besides, the kid's being good right now.  It would do no good to just kill them when those I'm trying to protect . . . Papyrus, _my brother (the most important of all) . . ._ everyone is out there, _safe,_ because the anomaly is here under my control.

        The brat's shaking. _Good._  They still don't wanna talk. _Fine._  But this quiet reminds me of another time, a chill crawling up my arm as the evacuation fails and I watch everyone turn to dust.  So, I keep talking.

        "i'll be completely honest for once.  sometimes, it's like i'm seeing double."  Y'know, I guess I shoulda expected that spark in their eyes.  Looks a whole lot like hope.  Too bad that's the furthest from what they should be feelin.  "then i remember, 'this is frisk we're talking about', and then i wonder what kind of joke i should make next at the hot dog stand."

        Well, looks like I hit a nerve.  I watch the hope die from their eyes, and that's when I get a chill, a sign to be careful, but of _what,_ I don't know.  I have them under my control, so there's no way they could―

        Flashes of memory slam into my skull, pictures of me and the kid fighting and there's tears falling down their face as they're laughing.  Their movements are twitchy, the knife in their hand . . they're twirling it between their fingertips.  I offered mercy, trying to get the fighting to stop, but I didn't think they'd actually accept.  I mean hell, was the human just waiting to kill me when I least expected it?  Or were those tears . . .

        I felt so _angry,_ smiling down at them as I said, "i know how hard that must have been . . ."  Frisk ran into my arms, and I used one of my summoned bones to stab them in the back.   ** _"g e t  d u n k e d  o n . . ."_** I said as the knife clattered to the floor and their limp body fell like a useless clump of meat that I held . . . I held like a _baby._  I saw the moment their soul broke, but bitterly, I told them, _"if we really were friends . . . you won't come back."_

        It wasn't long before it all reset, standing there in judgement hall with the artificial light shining through stained glass windows and birds from the outside chirping.  I'm sure it was a beautiful day . . . but memories of the blood on my hands reminded me that it would never last, and my own death . . . how far did they go after that?

        I make sure to stay out of the direct light I have shining on the kid, so that they can't see the look on my face.  I intend on finding out why this is all happening, how their power works, what exactly their 'determination' is and how it can be exploited.  My colleague, Alphys, had done experiments using the previously extracted human souls . . . six other children fallen from the mountain, the very first one, made our lucky number seven, but their body and soul, is for another story.  What's important is that there's an excess of a certain component discovered to be in every human soul we've tested, however, it is stronger in some than others, and that power keeps the soul coming back by turning back time.  Well, that was my theory, anyway, and as far as theories go, this one . . . was stellar.

        There was no denying that our reports showed a massive anomaly in the time-space continuum, but nothing to back up the claim of resets, but yet the power from the human soul was undeniably strong, and maybe where Alphys failed . . _I_ could eventually use that power to free us all, break us out of the underground, _take back our damn home._

        I have to admit, it's hard to really give it my all after learning that my choices hardly make a difference.  Re-living the same moments over and over again, it's made me tired, to say the least.  I used to bust my ass trying to go back, but I don't care anymore, and going to the surface doesn't appeal anymore, but then again . . . the stars finally look like they're in my favor for once, so maybe it's okay to dream.

        _Or maybe I'm just being naive.  Who knows._

        "you humans are a complete mystery to me," I start to say, watching from a distance with a grin, "and so i have to ask, does it hurt you too?  not that it matters anymore, but i guess that i'm just curious to know just how different a monster and human really are.  for instance, monsters aren't meant to think like this."  I tap my skull, and the kid tilts their head a little.

        "S-Sans..?"  They say my name again, and I have to laugh.  It's so bitter, and I hate it so much . . . but I keep going, shaking my head.

        "timelines jumping left and right, random memories _slammed_ into my skull each and every time it all resets . . ."  

        I stare, and I think back to the time I stopped caring, didn't follow the kid as much and stopped giving a damn if they died, hoping they wouldn't come back.  There was our dust on their clothes, their hands, and a monster's soul doesn't last without something to occupy, and that's why our bodies, made solely of our magic, cannot last without a soul, the powerhouse of a monster's magic, turning us into nothing more than dust that gets scattered in the wind.

        "I hurt a lot . . ." the kid says, and their voice is small, guilty, weak . . . and I move even closer.  "Please don't hurt me!" they beg.  "I don't want to fight!  Please!"

        I'm turning more bitter as time passes, I know this deep down.  The only thing that keeps me going . . is that Paps needs me, and that this world, if I give up all the way, could potentially be destroyed for good.  That's enough for me to get up in the morning, well . . afternoon.  Not everyone's a void wanting desperately to be filled even at the expense of hurting others, but looking down . .

        I viciously turn up my magic to push them even harder to the floor because I'm NOT like them . . and no one but me, them, and that damn ** _flower_** remember the sins we commit when we're too tired to care.

        Again, I tell them, tell myself . . "monsters aren't meant to think like this."  


 

?♥  **Love** ♥?

  
  
        The pain is too much, but I deserve it, and I cry out as I'm pushed to the floor.  I REMEMBER how it all started, but I DON'T . .  I just want it all to stop . . but that makes you think weird things, and that make me want to DO bad things . . . because I'm bad just like you, and it all resets again and again and every time I wake up on the flowerbed―

        _"You're just angry because you're dead and dying hurts!"_

  _("He looks mad . .  He must be sick of you.  All of them are sick of you.  They got sick of me, and look what happened._ **This will be you.** _You're just laying on the ground letting that sicko hurt you._ ** _That's why . . I_ hate _you.")_**

        I remember the story about how everyone who climbs the mountain goes missing, and it took me SO long to remember how I just wanted to find them.  If the others went missing, then maybe if I found them, we could be a family, and I felt so bad . . but now, NOW all I have is this bad dream that's our lives, and I just want to throw it all away and get back our happy ending!  But it doesn't change it!

        I'm in   _so  much  pain . ._  .  It hurts more in my chest.  This HAS to be a bad dream!  I just have to throw it away and run!  But it doesn't work, because I can't move, and Sans's eye is shining again, blue, blue, blue like judgement, blue like pain and sadness and hate and like death and he's smiling still . . because he hates me . . .

**_("His toothy grin is stretched across his pale face, cutting into your gut and twisting like a knife.")_ **

        More like bone, but I don't think, I just bite my lip and look away.

        "H-how come . . . m-monsters . . . aren't suppo-s-sed to think that w-way?" I ask, and Sans gets down on his knee, and I look away from him.  How could I be so mean to him when he used to be so nice, ALWAYS trying to be my friend?  I can remember when his smiles became less and less real, and I knew but didn't want to believe he remembered . . but he did, and he hates me now.  I deserve it though, because I'm bad.  Everyone loves him, and he loves them, but I'm an idiot that can't do anything right.

_**("That dumby needs to wipe that shit eating grin off his face before I smash it for him and then take his brother's head and knock it off and throw it at him.")** _

         _"NO!  PLEEEAAAASE, STOP IT!!"_

        Dying _hurts,_ and it doesn't matter if we can go back and fix it again . . .  I can't cover my ears, but I smile and cry, because they were counting on me, but I'm too stupid and weak.  I can't do anything right . . .

        My arms hurt.  My belly hurts.  My back hurts, and my neck hurts.  My hands are feeling stupid, and I don't want to look at them.  So I don't look, and I cough.  It hurts so bad, and why is he holding me down like this?

        It's because I'm bad.  I'm an idiot.  Flowey the flower, he's so mad at me right now, but before?  I still remember the time where he called himself that . . that he's an empty shell, but he's not a shell, and he's not empty, because he was our _friend,_ and he said that there were a lot of 'Floweys' in the world, and not everything can be solved by kindness!  So . . .

        _"I just wanted to make everything better, because she deserves her real son, and you deserve to be happy too!  Is that so wrong?"_

      _("Am I so wrong . . ?")_

"you can't . . understand what it's like, because you were broken from the start."

      _("You flinch under his gaze . .  You look like guilt, but you probably can't even feel it.")_

        It's too quiet now . . .  Sans is so quiet, and I don't know what to say.  I thought that maybe if I said something, maybe we could talk things through, but that's a stupid idea.

_("You have a memory of Flowey the flower . . laughing viciously at you, calling you an idiot.")_

        _"But it's not his fault!  He's broken_ ― _!"_

_("So broken, so smart to see you for what you are.")_

        Sans is walking away now.  Because he doesn't love me.  No one does . . .  
  
        ("The monster has a strange way of staring at you, as if he can really see me.")  
  
        And out of no where, there's a strange noise.

     "It sounds like whirring, almost like . . insect hives?"

        It's so cold, _and it's so cold,_ and I don't want to be here, and, _"This shouldn't be happening._   _I did everything RIGHT this time!"_

      **("But you did everything RIGHT before and it wasn't fair, was it?")  
**  
        I don't want it to be like this!  This shouldn't be happening.  This shouldn't be happening.  Why am I sick like this!

        I cry, and it's getting harder to breathe.  I ask quietly, "Wh-at is th- _at?"_  I don't think he can hear me.

        _"This can't be Sans.  It's not him."_

      **_("The floor beneath your body can't really exist, and this  c a n ' t  REALLY  be  h a p p e n i n g . . .")_**

        _"Hey, um . . .  Can you stop?  Stop it.  That's not very nice!"_

        ** _("Neither was what you did to them, partner . . .")_**

        Sans is strong, stronger than I could ever be.  He is _amazing_ and knows everything and . . _and . ._  .

        Nothing's right.  Everything's wrong.

        You tap my cheek from behind me and whistle.  I can hear you laugh, like you're having fun, but you like to have fun, and so I'm not surprised.

        "You know who else was having fun, Frisky-poo?  Flowey was really scary when he laughed this time.  He didn't speak at all!"

        I make friends with the ground, thinking if I can hide here, maybe you'll go away.

        _"Go away . . ."_

        I talk in my head.  You laugh again, and no one can hear you, but me.

        "You're so hilarious!  Oh my God . . ."

        "What . . what are you going to d-do . . to me?" I ask out loud, and I can hear you laugh even louder as you scoot away.  It's like, magic brushing against my body, but not the good kind, or the blue kind that Sans uses, I mean, sometimes.  It's like needles, but a lot of them, all at once, and it's scratchy.

        I try not to think of it.

        I think about looking at Sans, and when I do, I can't look away.  Sans is quiet, too quiet, just staring at me . . no light in his eyes.  It's scary, like a real skeleton, I mean, not like a monster skeleton, but one that doesn't move at all.

    _("Still and hard like how you imagine bone should be.")_

"tibia honest?" he says, leaning against a counter, or _something._  "most of the time?  i just do nothin.  probably won't do much now, unless you WANT to have a bad time?"

        I quickly shake my head, screaming, "NO!" and begging him, "Sans, I don't want to fight . .  I don't want to . . ."

        I can feel your hands on my shoulders . . squeezing . . .

_"It hurts."_

"heh, didn't think so."

        _"Please, stop."_

        I can hear some more noises as Sans goes through some stuff . .  I don't know where I am.  I don't know . . what he's doing . .  I just want to reset and run before I shake his hand, but that hurts!  I don't want to see him anymore, I don't, but he sees me even if I try to be really quiet!  How am I supposed to fix this if he scares me?

        "i wasn't kiddin, you know."

        I look up, and I still don't see any light in his eyes.  It's so dark, and I don't like it when his eyes are dark too.

        He looks away, back to whatever he is looking for.  "when i said, 'monsters aren't meant to think like this'.  it's too much, all at once and without any warning."  I can feel my sins crawling on my back as I hear something being picked up.  He still has his back to me, and I can't see what he's holding.  He sighs.  "every time that 'thing' happens . . . it's like my skull's being sawed in half, and it hurts.  so i'm curious.  does it hurt you too?"

        ". . Yes?" I say.

        _("Why do you even bother answering him?")_

_"You speak when you're spoken to.  If you don't, you get in trouble."_

        _("But you're already in trouble, and that monster's a sadist.")_

        "W-what's a sadist?" I ask, and Sans turns around.  I know I made a mistake, and I quickly cover my mouth and sit up . .  I can move again.  I can . . I can run.  
  _  
_ "His eye sockets narrow, and his left eye turns blue again.  You're slammed back down, missing your chance of escape."

        "that would be you, kid, and i guess . . me."

        My stomach hurts.  'Sadist' must be bad, and I am bad, but then . . Sans isn't bad, is he?  I just want to throw up, but that's a _bad_ idea, and so I keep staring at him, waiting for him to come get me and I cry, "Please . . somebody . . _help . . ."_

        He's in front of me now, and when did he get here so fast!?  He's so tall, and he's not Sans, he's―  _"NOT SANS!  HE'S NOT SANS!"_

  "Sans's heart replaced his brain and that doesn't make any sense, does it?  He's a SKELETON, and that THING should be dead just like those MONSTERS should be dead just like those **HUMANS who _MADE ME WHAT I AM!!"_**

        "i'll be blunt, kiddo.  it makes it hard to care anymore, but that doesn't mean i'm just gonna let you run free and kill everyone.  make sense?"        

        There's no love, only this.

        "i have some questions.  feel free to answer, or don't.  either way, i'm going to find out some things about'cha and you're going to just lay there and let me."

      ** _("There's no love, only the level of violence.")_**

        But as I look up at him, I can see the hurt in his eyes, and I remember . . just why I can't reset anymore.

_("And I cannot stand to let you hate me anymore . . .")_

There MUST be more to life than this.  
  
  


**D ;**   **ERASED**   **:')**

 

        Your quiet determination is pulling me in as I feel myself being erased by your passion.  It makes me angry, and it confuses me even more since you can NEVER make up your mind!  Can't yousee that you're hurting me?

       (" _Is this why you keep saying you love me?_   _Because love was never real, only our level of violence?")_

        After you first died by his hands, I watched from the darkness as he cried.  How does that even happen?  Skeletons shouldn't have tears.  He was holding you tightly while also holding the scarf of his dead brother.  I was wearing you like a glove, but even then . . I couldn't feel ANYTHING except the **hate** that brought me back, and once you died, I was spit back out until you made the decision to come back, and we did it all over again.

        All that pain . . the _pain_ I felt . . no, my mistake . . who am I kidding.   _You_ are what makes me  _me._   I am only what _you_ are, the dream that will become nothing in time, but still . .

        _("I really wish you could have seen how he screamed into the void because he was alone, so alone, and he knew it.  I wonder what you would've felt then?  How would that feeling of yours I have mistakenly called 'pain' have changed?  All that I am, all that I will ever be, is the hate that lives inside you . .")_

        "Cha― I mean . . Yes'sir . .  S-Sans?"

        Your voice trembles, and the skeleton quirks a brow.  The white pinpricks in his sockets are back, and I float above his head.

        "sir?  i have to say kid, hearing you be so polite . . freaks me out more than when you were stomping on my bro's head.   ** _so don't."_**

        You obey, at first, like a good little  _sheep,_  and stare at the skeleton as if you could will your 'love' to him and make him forgive you, make him understand that it  _wasn't your fault,_ _because_ _("It's so nice to have someone to blame, isn't that right, **frisk?")**_  
          
        "You're lying."

        I feel a stab in my chest.  My stomach hurts like from when― Your words  _sting._ I flip over and swing my legs over his shoulders.

 _"You're so stupid ._.  Just what the HELL is _that_ supposed to mean!?"

        The smiley TRASH  _BAG_ just fucking LAUGHS, and you're  _BOTH_  just laughing at me!  I'm DEAD, and  _YOU THINK THAT'S SO FUNNY_ _―_

        "i-i'm a liar?"

        I'm right here.

        "You're not funny."

        It's okay;  _I'm fading . . ._  
      
         ** _But you're NOT in control._**

        Sans takes a moment, thinking about that _stupid_ thing you just said.  Of course the comic Sans isn't funny.  ** _He never was._**

        The light from his eyes is gone as he turns away.  "never said i was."

        Your eyes sparkle with a new light, ever so subtle in the dark, your determination burning like a flame too damn warm for my taste.  You're desperate.  It makes sense.  You must want out of here.   _That's it._

        "I can see right through you, Sans."  You smile, and the skeleton just looks at you incredulously like you're a bug that grew two feet tall.  You don't give up, which is good; I knew you wouldn't.  It's that determination I love to hate, all I am and all I ever will be.  "You care a SKELE-TON.  Right?  That's why . . you brought me here."  

        I move from the monster's shoulders and put my feet on the ground.  I don't understand what you're hoping for― It must be freedom, so we can fix our mistake.  Your eyes look at him desperately, and I watch in silence.  It doesn't make sense any other way, but then . . memories of the skeleton shaking your hand for the first time slip from you to me like water from the tiniest of cracks, and soon, the reverie forms a puddle I can see myself in.

        Sans is playing pranks on you, and there I am, watching as you stare at his chest embarrassed as he laughs because whoopie cushions are for babies.  Suddenly, Mom is there too, but it's a different time, and she gives you a slice of my favorite pie.

        Now, it's just me on the bed you were in, waiting for the moment my time will come, and the hand of my brother is resting over mine, squeezing hard― **I am REALLY getting _sick_ of this . . .**

   "What, were you hoping he'd just pat you on the head, say it's alright?  You took EVERYTHING from him, because you got scared the second time you 'won', because you reached the surface without me, without saving dear 'Flowey'.  You wanted to go back and find a different ending where everyone was happy, and so what then?  WHAT ABOUT ME?! . . WHAT DO YOU _THINK_ WOULD MAKE ME HAPPY!?"

        "gotta HAND it to ya kid . . ."

        Two of us, one body, you tell me that you love me,  _and I know that it's just a game._

        "that wasn't half bad, but it was missing somethin . . ."

       ** _It's a game you've lost, and THAT'S why your mercy's met with rage._**

        "now, what could that be . . i wonder . . i know . . it didn't have any HEART!"  Blue magic sparks back to life and flickers from his eye, and you decide that you deserve it.  And I  _FEEL_  like I deserve it, and I want to make him  _PAY_  for making me **dirty.**

        "but i guess i'm just as GUTLESS as you, watching it all happen.  although, i'll be honest, again, since there's a small chance you won't even remember this anyway, but i sorta remember you from what i think was the first time?  then, without warning, i was back here, and i thought to myself 'why?  was that just a dream?', but then, i realized, there was just something 'off' about you . . you can't even convince me otherwise.  you've been trolling us all through time and space, and for how long . . well, i don't even  **care** enough to ask."

        You start to cry.  You know he's right.  Suddenly, you start to think back to the dark, cavernous region of Waterfall.  What a unique name, perfect for the place filled with garbage.

        The teal lights shone from artificial stars that were actually gems lining the walls and ceiling . . and then there was Sans, beckoning you to his 'expensive' telescope.  You imagine how it felt, walking over there, unsure of whether his claims of wanting to get into the 'telescope business' were real, or if he was about to trick you again.  You couldn't see a thing when you peeked through the lens, pulling back and making a face . .  The telescope had purple paint that was now around your eye, and you blushed as you realized that Sans had just pranked you, again.

        Sans isn't through with you, and his voice is starting to shake.

        "and i made that promise to that lady . . no . .  _no . . what was her name . ._  her name . . toriel!  right, and i remember that from another timeline.  i even remembered before we reached the surface, she was something else, constantly talking about ya with all the love in her eyes like you were her own . . and i even watched over ya to keep ya safe, but then ya just started killin and ya kept walkin, and after that, i couldn't be bothered to care, so i only half-watched, that is, unless ya killed papyrus, and then i stuck to ya like glue trying to convince myself that ya could STILL change!  i mean, after-all, i still remembered a time when you were my friend.  but that was all wishful thinking,  _right?"_

        _("You feel like garbage, and I'm glad.  You are like the human garbage cascading from the surface into that pile in Waterfall, the one near that spot you landed in when the royal guard chased you across the bridge and you fell . . ._ _You heard my pain from the fall . . from when he found me . . .")_

        "it's always you, me, and that damn FLOWER, and it makes it HARDER each and EVERY time i'm left trying to piece together which timeline we're in!"

        Sans is starting to yell, snapping us to attention.  He paces across the room, throwing his hands around and shooting magic like bullets.

        "and you killed him TWICE.  what, once wasn't enough?  he just tries to be your friend, believes in you even after you killed so many and doesn't even fight back when you cut him down . . ."

        He laughs, blue streaks falling from his eyes, his tears running across the smile he's forcing.

         _"It sounds like it came from over here . .  Oh!  You've fallen down, haven't you . . ."_

        I shake my head.  This is just too wonderful.  I start daydreaming back to the day of my fall.

_"Are you okay?  Here, get up . . ."_

I was in  so  much  _pain,_ but then there was this weird goat kid who smiled and held out his hand for me . . .

        "Memories are intimate, Frisk . . and I _wanted_ you to know me so I shared my fall with you.  It was like a scene right out of a novel, the sunlight and golden flowers, but after the second time I showed you this . . **you had the nerve to ignore me like you're doing to him now."**

        "Y-yes?  U-u-uhh . . ." you whine.  He hisses, a crack in his voice to cover up another laugh as I start to think back to other things, such as killing and seeing all of the pain erased with the memories.   ** _It's beautiful._**

        "all the while i'm having to come to terms with all the other 'sans-es'  _and his friends who just **died . . ."**_

        "I didn't mean to―!"

        He holds his head, and I suddenly remember back to his illegal hot dog stand in Hotland . . . and laugh.  Oh my God, you're shaking.  I share it with you, each little detail of a long past reverie, you dripping wet because you were stupid enough to give your umbrella to me and my brother's statue . .  You turn it around, and it's you standing amongst that reddish-orange dirt rising from the lava below, you having such a fun time messing with Sans by constantly buying his hot dogs made not from meat, but water sausages.  You can't carry them, so he starts to place them on your head, and it's so funny because he's okay with putting twenty-nine on your head, but not thirty, because thirty's just excessive . . .

        "OH no!"  I dig my nails into your shoulder, literally, sinking my fingers through.  **"Where's your spine?"**   You wince.  "Who does he think he is?  He isn't SUPPOSED to like you!  And who do you think YOU are?  You need to GET UP and FIGHT HIM!"

        I sink back and shake my head.  You pointedly ignore me, remembering too many things at once to try and drown me out.  For every pleasant thought, I spit back another bad one.  Before long it's just us thinking too many awful thoughts and it's hard to tell where they're coming from.  I guess that doesn't matter though. **Nothing will** **matter _after we're through with this._** ** _Even eating the slice of pie, the sugar melting on my tongue, couldn't take away the satisfaction of making someone else hurt other than me . . ._**

        It doesn't matter, but it's funny.  Watching you cry, reminds me of him.  It's stupid, and it's awful, because everything was too 'perfect' back then, even when it wasn't.  Mom making snail pie again, oh, but Asriel loved it, but then, she always had a slice of butterscotch for me and Dad, and I made him a shirt with the words "Mr. Dad Guy" on it.  Asriel hummed a tune while scribbling a picture of a flower to accompany my own, but oh how I stopped caring so much about those flowers after what I'd done, but I never stopped thinking of them.  I _made_ Asriel gather them with me and we made Dad sick.  Asriel only cried and cried in Dad's arms as Dad reassured him how it's easy to mistake 'cups of butter' for 'buttercups.'

      Sans's eye flickers.  Orange is mixing with the blue.  I remember thinking how easy it was to mistake a smile for good intentions, just like now.  His jaw-line cracks.  He is studying you.  You're his specimen, so curious, so special . . .

         _("Will you comfort the skeleton?  Tell him it's alright.  TELL him he's stupid . . .")_

        "You . . you're smarter than me, and you're . . you're really nice, when you're not hurting so much."

         _("You let him hurt you . . because you're scum. **You're dirt.")**_

        Sans's bones are rattling again as he grabs something on the― 

       "He's going to kill you.  You need to get up!"

        But you refuse.  You REFUSE to FUCKING move!

        "WHY WON'T YOU MOVE, DAMNIT!?"

        "hurt, huh?  let me tell you a little something about hurting . . ."  

"You won't even TRY!?  ARE YOU THAT STUPID!?  How LONG do you think we've reset this place?  How LONG do you think we've played our game before you!?  But you're determined to die, aren't you?  You're DETERMINED to let him hurt you, right?  So WHAT IS THIS?!  ARE WE JUST GOING TO KEEP DOING THIS OVER AND OVER AGAIN!?"

        "there's just something i can't figure out.  care to lend me a HAND!?"  He slams my knife down, and you let out a scream.  It cracks the floor, wedging into and breaking the tip right next to your fingers.

        You KNOW that's the knife we murdered his friends with, but you beg, "Stop it!" and you cry, "Please stop it . . T-this isn't―"

        "isn't what?   _fair?"_ The room is filling with his magic again, and you can feel his intent as he breaks even further.  "let me tell you what i can't figure out about hurting, kiddo.  i can't figure out if it's _fair_  to stop hurting as much watching you  ** _die._**   i can't figure out if it  _ **hurts**_  ya when ya _**die,**_  or if you're just  _ **laughing**_  on the inside like when ya  _ **laughed**_   **killing the innocent.  i can't figure out―"**

        "I'm sorry."  

        The room goes quiet save for your frantic breathing and the whirring of an unknown machine.  I move to the corner.  I watch as he stares at you.I sit down and scratch at my wrist.  It doesn't do anything.

        Mom, Dad . .  _Asriel . ._   _it hurts so much . . ._

         _ **This needs to stop . . .**_

****_**Please**_   _ **make**_ **_it_** **_stop . . ._**

        **("Erase . . . ERASE _I T  A L L . . . . .")_**

 

 

[ **( Move Forward)** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7364530/chapters/16727968)


	2. What You Try to Leave Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans had made a major mistake, but even now, he wonders if he's still making one.

## "What You Try to Leave Behind"

**written by** : Sara Hervey 

(aka [IzzyMarrie](http://izzymarrie.deviantart.com/) , also 'The Major')

**characters from Undertale  
**  Undertale © Toby Fox

 

Intro:  
A direct continuation of What Was Left Behind,  
this time, Sans, Chara, and Frisk must all face  
that which hurts themselves the most,  
but not all scars are as plain to see,  
and whether or not the consequences of a   
repeating timeline have been made obvious,  
it will either take a tremendous amount of courage,  
or a serious lack of determination,  
if they are to solve their problems.

After-all, what gets left behind,  
just might make or break an entire society.

 

_,nihilism_

** Ni̱̙̪̯̯̙hi̱̙̪̯̯̙li̱̙̪̯̯̙sm **

_7,,joke,'',s ,,on 7_   
****(j̗̠͉͈o͖̦̼̝̭k̺͖̜̗̺e͔̮̗'s͓̯̦̲̺̣͇͍ ̹͚̬̻o̰n̳̗̝̭̭̹̰ ͚̖̬̗͓͚͈̟ you** ** **)**

 

****   
** **

       "I'm so sorry Sans . . ."

        Suddenly, I'm the punchline, and I can't help but  _stare_  at the kid.  Did they just . . apologize?  Twice?  I couldn't have heard them right.  Is the kid  _that much_  of a psychopath?

        The world never moves forward down here, never for long, and it's so easy for a little human to just drop down here and die and kill over and over again and just make our lives into their sick little game.  Now they think they have the right to just say 'sorry'?

        I'm losing it.  I have to . . I have to get out of here, before I seriously consider ending the timeline.  Things are already messing up, bad.  Then again, what was I hoping to accomplish?  I've lost my objective, the psychological ramifications of being face to face with a power so tempting to abuse . .  A few experiments, sure, that's all I was planning to do, but these questions . . even for a normal kid, I'm asking too much, and how can I even expect them to understand?  And it's not like they'll even give me a right answer . . .

        My hand's on the door . .  A  _right_  answer?  What does that even mean?  I'm washed up, and a part of me is glad that my colleagues can't see me like this.  What was I expecting the kid to say?  Was I hoping they'd confess and validate everything I already knew about them?  Just how old  _is_  this kid?  Do they even know what they're doing and  _why_  it's wrong?

        Thinking about how young the kid looks, pinned down, tears in their eyes . . well, needless to say, it makes me feel like scum, especially since stopping STILL holds no appeal.

        I turn around, and I see something strange, like a flicker of magic . . a soul?  Its glow is red, like the kid's own, and it's slipping in and around them like a snake.  I'm definitely not seeing things.  This is the second time it's happened, and the kid . . they're letting out a soft cry . . a whimper, like a  _baby . . ._

        I put away the knife, slipping it in the drawer with my binder.

        I cut through time and space to the king's home . . the one he rarely goes to ever since his two kids―the adopted human included―died, and he declared war on the humans and the queen left for the ruins―which, I remember . . from another timeline.  I found a knife that looked identical to the one Frisk used on me, and I had a feeling it would be there . . since after all those other times watching them, I noticed how they always had a toy knife before reaching the throne room, or some other weird weapon.  I remember a lot of the times, they just had a stick that they would wave around when they were scared . . sometimes playing fetch with the dogs in Snowdin . .

        I close the drawer.  Why did I need to take the knife? . .  There's something  _definitely_  wrong with me.  My head's become like the trash tornado in my room that I like to keep active in order to give Paps a hard time.  My sock collection keeps getting just a little bigger each new iteration, and it's . . it's not like I take pride in my sloppiness, or my laziness, but it's all I can do to make a joke out of my nihilism.  I mean, no matter what we do, our fates are in the hands of a  _kid,_  and even this . . .

        "does it even matter . . ."

        I feel the sliver of hope, the determination I mustered after so many runs, scatter like dust and pool at my feet.  Nothing matters anymore, but I keep going, and as the kid looks up from their spot on the ground, I lift my magic just enough so they can scoot away from me and back themselves into a corner.  I guess, call it mercy, but really, it's  ** _pathetic._**

        I sit, knee propped up and my back leaning against the broken machine responsible for my biggest failure yet, many years before the kid, back when we first noticed the fluxes in time.  Failure, or maybe it was fate, but in all honesty, I don't even remember  _why_  we activated the machine in the first place.  The kid looks at the curtain covering it, and I sigh, running a finger over it.

        "y'know, i thought all this thing needed was to collect dust, since we're pretty much made up of it.  to be honest, i just gave up going back.  pictures . . are all i have now.  and the funny thing is, by all accounts, they shouldn't even exist."

        I watch as the kid looks around.  They must've realized they're in my work shop.  There were a few timelines that just to be sure I wasn't going crazy, I gave them a code word.  I actually gave them two, separate times, of course, and after they said both, I knew there was no denying that the kid was responsible for the recent changes, however uh, recent that may be since it's easy to lose track of time anymore.

        "Sans . . ."

        Their voice is so small, that I would've never noticed it if I hadn't turned off the air vents when they said 'sorry'.  I only had those on to scare them, but then I turned them off, not even sure if I heard them right.  I look at them.

        "what is it?"

        I wait, but the kid stays quiet.

        It's almost like karma.  I've never quite figured out how to fix anything.  So to find ourselves here, in my workshop where I've made my make-shift tomb . . I'm starting to wonder if there really is a hell and if I'm living it.

        The kid, staring off at the river outside Snowdin . . I remembered three other human souls, shaking, looking off,  _ **I never faced them.**_

        And it's almost like a divine comedy.  I remember setting the treadmill that I never use to be on so that when the kid unlocked my door, they'd be walking straight into a dark room and maybe trip, but then I heard from Paps how he found the human walking on it in the dark.  Man, did that make me laugh . . and the look on my brother's face, almost felt like―

        'the truth is, you just got owned, nerd,' is what I wrote on the note stickied onto the handle, and I suddenly felt like setting up cameras like how Alphys did in secret, all over the underground, seeing the little brat's face as they realized that unlike the others, I remembered their killing spree―

        But that was  _sick,_  that was  _too much,_  and walking into my work shop and seeing how my old lab badge and photos of my 'lost' colleagues, my binder with my drawing, and of course, the impossible photo of me, the kid, and everyone on the surface, were obviously moved . . I didn't have the moxy to think.  The kid's smart, and I knew they'd figure out the key also went to the basement, and so I just sat on the floor, staring at their tiny hand-prints left in the dust.

        "how old are you kid?"  
          
        The question comes out of my mouth before I can even think about what I'm asking.

        "Eight . . and a half..."

        Oh goddamn.  I feel the walls closing in on me.  It's not like my work shop's that big to begin with, but it feels like I'm suffocating, like my heart's being crushed and my stomach's twisted in a knot.  A cold sweat drips down my neck and spine and I laugh, saying, "o-oh?  eight?  that's old kid."  What was I doing?  Better yet, what have I done?  

_"you SAW them . . **you watched them and did nothing."**_

That thought doesn't make things better, but then, the only thing that _could_  make things better would be for time to stop resetting, for all the memories of betrayal to go away, for our fates not to be in the hands of some eight year old psychopath and for my failure to pick up after . .  _after . . ._

        I remember back to the picture I drew . . a message scrawled above me, Paps, and that man . . **'don't forget'.**  I remember pieces, _only pieces,_ because after creating the power-house of the underground, the royal scientist I was meant to replace, fell into his own creation―

        I shake my head . .  A human in the underground, a child in the underground, cracking a joke, the man I was meant to replace, staring as we talked, one day  _gone,_ little buddy like sleeping beauty, gone, gone gone . . and of course, Chara, was their name, but the man―

        I can't even remember his face, and after a while, everyone but me forgot the one who created the core and when Alphys took his place.  It was several years.  No one but me remembers the man shattered across time and―

        Suddenly, I can feel my sins get the better of me as I realize, it's MY fault, MY nihilism that's keeping us down here, the real reason my colleagues were shattered along-side him, the monster who is somehow important . .  Somehow, someway, they don't even exist anymore after reset, after reset, after reset of them being gone . . there's death, _everywhere―_

         _"_ _i gotta keep it together . . ."_

        I feel something against my face, and I jump back, my magic flaring in response.  It was the kid.  Frisk.  They were . . blue liquid, tan hands . .  Was I just  _crying?_

        Great, now I'm really losing it.  They're shivering in the corner mumbling they're 'sorry' over and over again, and all the while their soul is flaring as another one knocks them over and over again.  What the hell is it trying to do . .  _eat_  them?

        I quickly get up and move towards them, but the kid screams, "Stop!!" and I remember three other kids, three other determined little souls I brought to the king, and they cry, they all cry in unison, and the orb of light behind Frisk forms into the shape of―

        "the hell . . frisk?  why . . why didn't you say somethin to me kid?"

The kid's dancing around in a dirty tutu they found lying in Waterfall . . and  _that_ was the same one the other little kid I brought to the king was wearing . .  It's me at my sentry station in Hotland, and I was pretending to sleep, not even hiding my condiment bottles from my lucrative hot dog business as Undyne chased little Frisk around, stopping in front of my station to yell at me, but of course I didn't take it seriously since the kid's bound to win her over.  But all those other times I wasn't watching, Frisk must've been so scared . . killed how many times, but I was thinking,  _"it's okay, Undyne won't actually_ kill _Frisk because she's only scared of what the humans are capable of",_ but I'm such an idiot.  That was her  _job._   What is WRONG with me?  That was  _my_ job too . . .

        It's _Frisk_ showing Undyne mercy, giving her water when she collapsed from the heat of her armor . . _Frisk_ letting themselves get beat up by Papyrus over and over that one time, and then _Paps,_ being the gentle soul he is not even  _trying_  to hurt the kid despite wanting desperately to get into the royal guard . .  Because my brother would _never_ call Undyne when he caught Frisk, no matter how many times he said that he would, and it became like a game between the two of em as Frisk kept easily slipping through the bars in our garage and then looking for Papyrus who would be frantically searching for his lost child thinking the human was hurt . . even leaving a note one time saying if they needed a place to stay, they should just ask, and heck, even _I_ wasn't opposed to making a spot for them on the couch.

        Because Frisk won me over and made me feel  _redemption,_  like despite everything, even someone as terrible as me could be happy.

        And we were all friends.  I was . .  _happy_  that I made that promise to the lady behind the door, happier when I realized that we were all one big happy family on the surface . . just to wake up in my work shop, my memories from before, mostly gone, but the happiness that we all shared . . was too good to forget, _too good to last._

        Now here I am, and I never even asked the kid for their name.  None of us did.  It was . . after the second time we reached the surface―? no, it happened just before that, in the place I like to call 'judgement hall' right before the king's throne room.  We all woke up with the kid on the ground, looking like they were sleeping.  Even Undyne was crying, and Paps . . he was the worse of all, and I mean Tori thought of Frisk as their own kid.  Then suddenly, they just opened their eyes and it was like, we were  _always_  calling them 'Frisk', not just 'kid' or 'human' . . but I noticed that right away, because it was strange . .  I didn't remember calling them 'Frisk', ever, but I didn't question it when everyone was so happy, and my brother Paps was ruffling the kid's hair and it felt like maybe . . there was hope after-all.

        Frisk is just a  _kid_ , a kid who's obviously under the influence of someone else, and here we all were either treating them like a criminal while giving them a reason to lash out, or just relying too much on an old prophecy of an angel from the surface that would come and make the underground empty, saving us all.  Frisk is just a  _kid,_  and so were all those other  _kids . ._  and not one of them, did I ask their names.  Not one of them . . did we even give a chance like Frisk, but even then, did we really?

        "NO!   _NO! STOPIT!"_  And in a heartbeat, my attention's on the kid again.  Frisk is  _screaming,_  and I mean SCREAMING, thrashing on the ground and pulling out their own hair.

        "hey!  hey, stop . . stop . . ."  I try pulling their hands from their head, hushing them and cradling them against me like Papyrus when he was just a baby-bones and it was just me and him against the world, but then, it's like the world stops, and Frisk looks up at me with those  _eyes . . ._

        "It's a beautiful day outside . . ."  
          
        Oh . .  ** _fuck._**

        "Birds are singing.  Flowers are blooming.  On days like these, kids like you,  _ **should be burning in hell."**_

        My own words cut sharper than their knife, and seeing that determination in their eyes . .  I lose it.

        Frisk is screaming in pain and slamming against the counter . . .  
  
        I drop them, and they slide down and . . they're still, like a baby doll.  I did this to a goddamn baby who didn't know what they were doing . . .  
  
        "frisk?" I call out.  
  
 _But they don't answer.  
  
        I shake them.  
  
        My kid's not moving_―  
  
        "what . . what have i  _done?!"_

 

**( :**   **Heart**   **: )**

 

        It hurts as I fall to the floor, and I'm bleeding, and I know I have to get up but I don't want to yet.  I hate my life . .  It's my fault for never being good, and bad kids get punished, and no matter how hard I try, I can't hate Sans because I know I deserve it.

    _("You hate that trash bag . .  He can't love us because we're hurting him.")_

         _"It hurts to be alive.  It hurts to die."_  

    _("So then, give me your soul, and I'll make it all_ ― _")_

        "NO!   _No_ _―"_

"But I don't HAVE one, and I want yours!"

"I don't want to!"

        "kid?  kid?!  what do you not wanna do?"

 "What makes NOW any different?  I don't understand.  I just don't get it, because if we'd have gone a little further that one time, then you would have just to see―"

        "kid?  come on, talk to me!"

        I bring my knees up to my chest and hug myself, burying my face so no one can see me.  It hurts to think, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to cry and never do anything right.

        "I . . just wanted to be your _friend,_ but you keep hurting me!"

        My body feels like it's on fire, and it's hard to breathe . .  I can feel you wrapping around me again, and you're mad at me.

_("Love isn't real and you TAUGHT me that!  Frisk . . you_ taught _me that . . you perverted freak!")_

"I brought you back those times you reached the surface because you wanted another ending.   **I**  wanted another ending too!  Your hate reminded me that we're dirty and taint everyone too stupid to realize we can't be cleaned."

_"Why do you keep talking about being cleaned―?"_

        Suddenly, I feel something cool against my skin, like water is washing over me and taking away the pain.  It reminds me of . . Toriel . . m-mom . . and . . and the king . . .

        I open my eyes and look up, and Sans is right there.  I kick at him and pull my arm back, but I don't get far.  I'm going to DIE again and have to start over . . .

        I really  _can't_ win.

        "shh . . i know you're scared . . but this is helping, right?"  I look back up, and his eyes are back to normal again, tiny white lights shining in empty holes.  I'm too scared to look down, but I do it anyway, and his hands are on mine, glowing blue.  It does feel nice . . like being with mom―T-Toriel . . back in the ruins and her using magic to make the scratches Flowey gave me go away, and even the king, too scared and not really wanting to fight, especially since he thought I looked like you . .  I was bleeding, and he was hurt too, but he was making it all better while saying he was sorry, that maybe we could all be a family . . .

        Sans's magic feels like kindness . . like mercy―

         _("Don't you remember how you stopped fighting, his **smile** as you ran into his arms and he **stabbed you . .** when we came back and we said 'no' the next time, and he was all like 'woah, you look REALLY pissed off... heheheh... did i getcha?'")_

        And now I feel sick . .  because . . .

      _"well, if you came back anyway . . ."_

It's so cold . . .

        "I guess . . ."

        "what's that?"  
_  
_ "I guess that means we never really WERE friends, huh?  Heh.  Don't tell that to the other Sans-es, okay?"

        I don't have any friends, because even if the others don't remember what I did, they kinda remember that I was mean to them, and that's why I can't do anything right, because . .  _because . ._  Sans is right, and he's so nice . . and everyone loves him . .  He doesn't move, and so I lay down on him, grabbing his coat . . hoodie . . it's so soft . .  _He's a lot warmer than I thought he'd be . . ._

        Sans puts his hand on my head as his magic keeps swishing around inside me, his other hand squeezing my right hand tight and rubbing circles.  Is he . . trying to calm me down?  Is he still going to kill me?  I hiccup, and Sans starts to pet me.  
  
        "sh-shh . .  it's okay baby-bones.  i gotcha.  does that feel any better?"  
  
        "Yes," I tell him, but it's not all true, and I hold onto him even tighter.  He feels like judgement, but he feels like my friend.  He feels like Sans.  
  
        "that's good . . ."  
  
        I'm starting to get sleepy, and so when he starts rubbing my back, I don't even fight my eyes as they close.  


 

***  
**( ; Bre/** _ **ak**_ **: |**

 

 

        "No, no!  Still me . . no . .  _no . . stop . . ."_

         _("It's time to wake up . . .")_

        I feel funny, like something's different.  Something soft is under my head . .  something warm covering me . .  I open my eyes, and it's dark.  I can't see. 

        I can't see at all.

        He killed me.  Sans  _killed_  me!

        I'm in the dark place again, only this time, I didn't just come back.  How do I get back!?  I'm going to be stuck here forev―

        The lights turn on, and I'm not dead.  I'm . . I look around, and I see Sans at the door, and I'm in his room.  I should have guessed . . because . . it smells in here . . but the bed's made, and the sheets are actually clean.  The blanket reminds me of home, of her house and―

        _("Seeing yourself alone in a room with a killer . . **it FILLS you with determination.")**_

        I look away and see the trash pile in the corner as it spins in the air, it's a trash tornado, and I quickly look back at Sans whose eye is blue and his hand is raised, and I quickly pull the covers over my head.  Monsters can't see you under the covers, and he can't get me if he can't see me.

        The blanket is moving and I try to hold onto it even tighter.  I tell the blanket, "Shh, stop moving or he'll find me."

        "Really though, the responsibility of dealing with you when you're hiding is too much for the lazy bones to handle."

        I can smell something new though . . and it's nice.  I start to imagine what it could be.  Maybe a cake?  Or a pie?

_("You start to think of Mom cooking snail pie . .")_

        My nose turns up because that sounds gross, but―

        _"W_ _ould I have to actually_ eat _it?"_

"But of course, at some point anyway.  How else will you get your protein?"

        My stomach growls.  It's angry and wants food, but I pat my belly because it knows that it will be fed if it just waits.  Slowly, I peek from under the covers.  But I see Sans, and so I have to hide.  But . . what is he holding?  I toss the blanket off me, and he laughs.

        "was starting to think you were goin into hibernation there, little buddy.  why you hidin 'neath the sheets anyway?  a monster's feelings are real easy to hurt, y'know."

        I try to imagine going into hibernation like a bear . . but that would mean I would have to eat a bunch and then sleep through winter, and I don't think that's a good idea.  So I ask instead, "What happened?"

        Sans doesn't answer, just pushes his plate onto my lap and it's . . .

        "Pan.. _cakes?"_

        He winks.

        "yep, a special cake just for you that i made in a pan."

        Sans messes up my hair again, and I quickly swat away his hand as he laughs and goes to sit on the tread . .  _mill . . ._

         _"The truth is, you just got owned, nerd."_  
          
        I remember the note I found when Papyrus turned on the light . .  I accidentally stepped on the treadmill when it was dark, and I kept walking on it not knowing I was even on a treadmill, or that Sans would even have one in the first place.

        I quickly shove a bite into my mouth so that Sans doesn't think I'm being rude, and it's . . not terrible!

    "The idea that Sans can actually cook―"

        "It fills us with determination!"

        I start to laugh and kick my feet as I take another bite.

        "wow.  you're really weird.  but that's okay.  trust me.  we're all weird down here.  so just keep being you, kid."

        I smile up at the skeleton, laughing real hard as I take another syrupy bite.  But then, I remember that I never thanked him.  He didn't need to . . make me anything, or make his bed . .  His sheets were in a grease ball last time I was here, like maybe he didn't like sleeping here at all.

        "yeah, I know it's not as great as my bro's spaghetti, but unlike paps, i like using actual―"

        "Thank you."  His face stiffens up, and . . I was just rude, not letting him finish, and so I look down at my plate so I don't have to look at him.  "S-sorry . ."

        "for what?" Sans asks, and it almost sounds like he's worried.

        I bring up my knees a little, but I'm still wearing my shoes and I don't want to put those on his sheets . .  "Being . . rude?"

        Sans is quiet, and I just ruined it, didn't I?

        "You are hoping for forgiveness, but that is NOT for you!"

        Suddenly, the bed creaks and I can feel it moving, and I look to see Sans sitting next to me.  He's not smiling, and he sighs.  Just as I'm about to say 'sorry' again, he pats me on the shoulder and his jaw changes into a grin.

        "kid, if you're being rude just for thanking me, then i'm a fibula when i say my fried snow's the best sentimental snack in snowdin."

        I laugh, remembering the times Sans would try and sell me fried snow and say it's just five gold, and if I'd say yes, he'd just keep raising the price before saying that he couldn't sell it, it's too senti . .  _mental?_

"That joke is . . punny."

        I don't know what that word means, but he makes it seem like it meant a lot to him.  I wipe my nose with my sleeve.  I don't feel okay, even though I smile, because he's making jokes . . and I can't keep looking at him when he's mad at me.

        "well, glad i could tickle your funny bone, kid."

        I take another bite, but the plate's almost empty.  
_  
("The plate is both dirty and naked.")_

        "hey, you really were hungry, huh?  geeze kid, you're gonna get even taller than me one day with an appetite like that.  i mean, look at paps."

    _("The thought of the giant skeleton being small like you_ _―")_

        It makes me feel weird, like I want to grow even taller and beat Papyrus.  I start to think about being taller than Papyrus while the skelebros ask me how the weather is up there.

_("The thought is strange, but for some reason, makes you happy, and fills you with determination.")_

After finishing off my plate, Sans gets up.  "so, do i have the frisk seal of approval?"

        I give him a thumbs up, but that's not a seal, so I scoot off the bed and run over to his dresser and grab a marker from the drawer.

        "uhh . . kid?"

        I sit back down.  I start drawing on his forehead and laugh as I put the finishing touches on my cartoon seal.

        Sans just sighs and lets me draw.  "i think you're confusing me for a sugar skull, and it's almost christmas, not cinco de mayo . . or dia de los muertos . . ."

        Finally, I write the words 'Frisk approves!' and take a step back, moving to the middle of the floor to sit on my knees and look up at my master piece.  It's perfect.  I am a master artist and Sans is my favorite canvas.  I start to look around for a mirror, but _―_

 "if you're looking for a mirror baby bones, there ain't none.  i don't like to keep those around here . . uhh, nothing real pretty to look at usually comes in here.  so!  i'll just take your word for it if you say i look good, alright?"

        It's easy to tell that he's trying to smile, and that makes me a little happy, but I want to make him happy again, like in those pictures in his workshop . .  I took away our happy ending, but . . I want to give it back, not because I should, not because it's the right thing to do, but because I want to.  
      
        "frisk, what's wrong _―_?"  
  
I giggle and wink at him, forming my hands into a heart.

        "You're Sans-ational!"  
      
        _("I don't know what you're doing.  You'll just reset again . . because you took away his happiness, and you're too scared to reach the surface and find out if I'll do it again.  That's why you're not mad at_ me, _Frisk.  That's YOU in the mirror.  YOU having fun ruining their lives.")_

        Sans puts out his hand, and I look at it.  He's not wearing his gloves . . and he wasn't wearing his gloves before . . but I wasn't paying attention then.  I can see each little bend, and it's so different from my own hand . . but it looks just a little bigger . .

   _("But just as easy to break.")_

        "hey, i said i'd take your word for it for now.  so . . whaddya say i teach you how to make some pancakes?  now i know you love my bro's cooking _―"_

I quickly shake my head and groan.  I shut my eyes.  My tummy starts to remember the last time I tasted that cold spaghetti . .  Not even the mice wanted it.  They gave up after a nibble.

        But Sans just laughs, and I open up my eyes and brush my hair behind my ear.

        "Sorry.  He tries."  I stand up, moving to sit next to him.  "A mouse ate some once."

        "oh kid, between you and me, i send his breakfast spaghetti to another dimension, but you can't tell paps that, okay?"

        "di . . men . .  _sion?"_

        Sans crosses his arms and looks down at me.

        "seriously kid, if tori doesn't add that to your curriculum, i'm going to have a serious talk with her."

        I copy him by crossing my arms, moving my head to the side.  "What's curri . . cu _―_ "

        _("The skeleton doesn't know if you're messing with him or not.  He looks really worried.")_

"Never mind."  I look at the ground and try to stop smiling, but I can't.  That was really funny.

        He shakes his head and smiles again, holding out his hand.  "so at least i know what to getcha for christmas . . you a dictionary, and paps a cook book, but you'll have to pay me five gold if ya wanna make it your bed time story, otherwise, i hear tori's good with words."  He winks, and I try to keep smiling.  "hey, just jokin, well, not really.  i'm not that lazy.  i won't just get you a dictionary.  are you . . okay?"

        I must've looked sad . . but Sans is smart.  He knows what a fake smile looks like.

        "It's just . . you're going to pull that whoopie cushion prank on me again . . and that's for babies."

         _"Actually, I love the whoopie cushion trick, but lying just a little won't hurt his feelings, will it?  It's better than telling him that I'm not looking forward to Christmas this year, even though I could probably give all that coal to Alphys so she could feed it to the core."_

         _("Is_ that _what you think_ _―_ _?")_

        Sans blinks.

        "for  _babies?_   uh, kid?  i'm more than ten times your age and that spiel never gets old."

        He rolls up his sleeves, and I give him a funny look as two . . no, three whoopie cushions, and one ketchup bottle falls out.  It's a mystery how a skeleton can always have so much up his sleeves . . and just as Sans is opening the bottle to take a drink, I ask, "Why do skeletons wear clothes?"

        He coughs, dropping the ketchup bottle.  His hands are covered in red and . .  I kick the bed to get away from him, but he doesn't _―_

_("The monster doesn't seem to notice.  This is a trap, obviously, and you're going to die.  He wants to kill you.  Run?  Stay here and die?")_

"uh, okay, because no one on earth wants to see me naked.  that and i'd get chilled to the bo _―_ hey, frisk, what's wrong?"

"You know you should run.  He's coming closer.  He's looking at his hands―!"

        "oh god, sorry kid, i mean,  _frisk,_  fuck, baby bones, i'll go get washed up, okay?"

     "Damn.  Stop . . crying . . ."

        I feel your hand on my face.  You're still behind me, and I wipe away my tears.  "I'm sorry . . ."  I hiccup, covering my mouth and rubbing my eyes some more.  "This hurts you too . . doesn't it?"

       "What- _ever . ._  It's not . . important . .  I'm dead, remember?"

_"_ Sans is going to think we're big babies, so let's just smile, okay?"

"You and that FLOWER are the cry babies, ** _not_** me. **YOU are the baby!  NOT me!  I was THIRTEEN, and so that makes ME THE ADULT** ― **!"**

        I look up and Sans is already gone.  I . . can't . .  _breathe . ._

        "Stop it . . You're hurting me, Chara _―!_ "

        **"Stop it!  You're _hurting me_** _― **!"**_

        I step on the floor and slip in the blood.  There's blood everywhere, and it's _my_ blood, and it  _HURTS!_

"SAANNS!!"

"Call for help, but NO ONE will come!  NO ONE LOVES YOU!  NO ONE CAN  _EVER_ LOVE YOU!"

        The door slams open.  "kid!"  He's right here.  He's in my blood.

        **"Let's make him PAY, the fucking FILTHY piece of―"**  
   
        "what the  _hell_  happened?!  frisk, talk to me buddy!"

        "GO  _AWAY!"_   I slap away his hand, and he's gonna . .  I don't want to . . .

        I just . . I just I hurt Sans.  I look at him, and he looks so . . disappointed in me.  He's breathing fast, so fast, like he just ran a race.  Because I called for him, and he came.

        I jump into his arms, holding him tightly as the memory of him stabbing me makes me hold onto him even tighter.  Because I remember my death.  I remember it  _hurt._   But I remember his death, and I don't  _ever_  want to let him go.  I don't EVER want to make him hate me again.

        "come on kiddo.  let's get you cleaned up.  i'm sorry."

        And as we're walking away, I wave goodbye to his messy room, especially his sock collection.  Maybe one day, I could collect that many socks.  His shirt smells nice, but he's made of bone and so it hurts to lean my head on him . . but it feels good.  He's still warm.

        _("And I remember what it was like to feel warm . . and I_ don't _feel determined . . . .")_

 

  
_,:at ,i'll ,give ,6,y_  
 **What I'll Give To You**  
  
  


        I'm not cut out for this.  Just running the bath water for them, and I almost  _died._ Now wouldn't  _that_  be somethin.  I mean, what a hook line and sinker, killed by an  _eight year old_ at bath time.  Not even Paps gave me this much of a fuss all those years ago, but then, he obviously wasn't hurt the same way this kid . . I mean,  _kids,_  were, because there's no denying there's two of em now . . .

        And in times like these, hell do I wish I wasn't made in the image of a chump, all monsters able to feel another's pain to this capacity?  Who in their right mind would  _want_  that when it means practically opening up your own rib cage and leaving your entire core vulnerable to the wolf in sheep's clothing that could easily bite the hand that feeds?

        I can practically _feel_ their hearts beating as one, two determined little kids with the capacity for violence and the power to off me and the entire underground, at my mercy, and me, at  _theirs._   Like I said, I'm  _not_  cut out for this.  How do you save someone when you need saving yourself?  But hell, I'm determined to  _try._

Frisk seemed so scared after trying to attack me.  Don't know if they were just remembering me using my magic on them before, but I slowly let them down, making them promise they'd calm down.  I  _wasn't_ going to hurt them.  That other soul, now  _they_  were the ones that looked truly frightened, like an angry dog baring its teeth at me because it was backed into a corner.   At the mere mention of a bath, they were already agitated, and in turn, that made Frisk agitated too, probably nervous as all hell, but of what?  Did someone  _do_  something to the other kid?

        Something I hadn't thought of, but that other soul is most definitely human, but not just that, one I've never seen before.  All the other colors of the souls fallen into the underground and not one of them was ever red like Frisk's that I can remember―that I . . that I can remember, so then, how did they die, and  _why?_

        The kid's splashing around in the tub, happy as can be from the sound of it.  It's amazing, just how frantic they can be one moment, then calm the next.  Then again, all kids have a little bit of that in them.

        This is so wrong.  So  _much_  of this is wrong.  A part of me is just begging for that reset _―_

        A chill runs up my spine.  What if the kid really  _has_  to  _die_  each time for the world to turn back?  Because even before they fell into the underground, when it was just the weed constantly screwing with us, I never really  _saw_ it happen.  It just  _did,_  and the only thing I really knew was I had a shot of remembering certain things while everything else was a sickening sense of déjà vu.

        Yeah, that's not gonna happen.  I get off the couch and walk up the stairs to my room.  "hey, you doin alright in there?" I call back to the kid.  I hear them say "yeah", and so I take that as incentive to just leave them alone for now.

        I pull my phone off its charger and turn it on.  I'm going to have to think of a lie for Papyrus when he gets back.  No way I'm having him find out anything.  The less he knows, the better, because no matter what, there's always that small chance something might linger in the next . .

        **"** _ **Damnit . . ."**_

        I grit my teeth.  No point on trying to smile or pretend when it's just myself.  So I yank Frisk's phone off the charger too, right next to mine, setting it down and staring at it as if it's going to just start talking.  Tori gave them this, and I remember that from another timeline.  All that time ago, I was wondering how the kid even got a hold of a monster's phone, because I don't think it's possible for a human's phone to be able to sync with our towers, I mean, but I guess it should be possible.  We got most of our technology by building off theirs, and so at the time, I didn't really care enough to think about it.  But now, all I know is that  _someone_ was calling Frisk right before I―

        ―NOPE!  _BROUGHT_  them here.  I  _KNOW_  that in this timeline, no one should've had their number yet, and I was  _watching_ them from the moment they left the ruins.  So other than Toriel, who I remember a constant pattern from would NEVER be calling the kid, because her phone gets stolen by one of the dogs each and every time . . . they didn't make a single call.  So who the hell was calling them―?

        My phone starts to beep.  Fucking perfect timing.  So I grab it, and I have five texts, three missed calls and a voice mail.  Suddenly, it starts to ring . . .

        I answer, "h-hey papyrus."

       "FINALLY!  You weren't answering any of our texts, or my calls.  Do you have any idea how worried you made me?  You didn't show up to any of your sentry stations either, and Undyne's . . . a little murdery."

        Something isn't right.  I put on my smile.  "so now you're calling because you have a  _bone_  to pick with me?"

        "Don't."

        There's something in his voice . .  Paps is never this serious.  My smile fades, for a moment, but I have to stay in character if I'm to make him think everything's okay.  "well,  _tibia_  honest?  i was just so  _bone tired_ from last night."

        "Sans."

        "oh, that and the annoying dog came back and stole my left leg.  then i tripped and lost my right.  needless to say, i didn't have a  _leg_  to stand on!"

        "Sans, stop."

        "e-everythin alright paps?  because i won't lie, i'm not a  _boneified_ professional here, so you're gonna have to―"

        "SANS!"

        I slide to the floor and collapse.

        "y-yeah?  speaking?"

        "Sans . . talk to me.  I'm worried about you.  You're not . . acting like yourself."

        His words . . are like a _slap_ to the face.  How could he tell?  I've always been . . so  _careful . ._  Am I really letting myself go that bad?  Is it  _that_  obvious?  I mean, I love my brother but he's never been―

        "Sans?"

        "ahah . . you got me bro!  can't hide anything from you, can i?  nothing's the matter.  i was just trying to keep it a surprise, but i guess you're just getting too smart for me . ."

        "A surprise."

        "yep!  although, you're gonna have to wait to see it."

        A moment of silence rolls past us . . and I know I've been made.  I feel guilty, like I've disappointed him somehow, and I'm the older brother and isn't it supposed to be the other way around?  But he's too great, and he could never disappoint me.

        "So.  Did you know there's a human on the loose?"

        The world stops.  I drop the phone.

        The kid hasn't even  _met_ Papyrus in this run.

        I suddenly remember he's still on the phone.

        "Sans?  SANS!"

        "i'm right here.  wow.  what would you do without me?  geeze, if i didn't know you better, i'd think something got under your  _skin."_

        "UGH!!  Stop that.  Sans, there's something the matter, and I, the GREAT Papyrus, won't rest until I figure out what it is."

        I laugh, staring out the door as Frisk giggles down the hall . . holding my skull and trying not to cry because, isn't this so funny?  "well, then, you'll be  _bone tired_ by time you're through, and as for what's the matter?  paps, i'm disappointed in you.  EVERYTHING is matter, except for energy, of course.  what are they teaching everyone these days?"

        "Yeah . . ."

        Suddenly, Frisk is at the door and I have to go.

        "hey paps, hate to cut this short but i have work to do."

        "But you're not working!  SANS!"

        "and you know me, that takes ALL of my energy."

        "SANS―"

        I hang up.  I have a kid to take care of, but I . . I need a second.  I start flipping through my texts.  All day apparently, even before I―  Two from Papyrus, one from . . Grillby?  I laugh because he even got the bar tender involved.  I laugh even harder.  Two from Undyne and hers are HILARIOUS:

_"Okay punk, you need to either bring your sorry ass over to Waterfall and explain why you've been so down lately, or face my undying wrath when I come find you myself.  AND DON'T SAY YOU'RE ON BREAK!"_

And then her other one:

_"UGHH!!  I don't even KNOW what to do with you Sans.  You're lazy, you're tired ALL the time, and you're just so IMMATURE!  You're 16 going on 500, so STOP!  Papryus is out of his mind worried about you.  Even I'm worried about you.  It's infectious, you jerk!"_

It's so funny . . because you can't even  _script_  this stuff.  Even the flower had me pegged.   _"A funny guy like you should SMILE more!"_ I'm a cosmic screw up, the universe's back wash and the grand joke of my brother's life, because I can NEVER be the perfect monster he wants me to be, but he'll keep believing in me because I taught him to love and care from the moment it was just us, and no . . that's another bad joke, because he was  _always_  perfect just the way he is, and _I'm_  the one that's holding him back.

        A pair of small arms wrap around me before I even have time to realize I've been crying.  I'm getting my shirt I gave them all wet with my tears, but hell, it'll come out in the wash anyway.  It doesn't even matter, does it?  I laugh, and it's dry, one of the only things dry in the room.

        "h-hey, my clothes are really big on you . ."

        "Shh-shhh . ."

        Because nothing matters, not now, not after all these years . .

        "Sans, it's going to be okay."

        I can't even  _act_  right anymore, because monsters aren't meant to think this way, can't even get a kid to stop hurting everyone . .

        "Papyrus loves you, Undyne loves you, everyone loves you, and you're . . everyone's best friend."

        Suddenly, I pull away and the little kid just touches my face, wiping away my tears.  My mouth's hanging open apparently, because they just smile and close it shut.  That's when it hits me.  Kids  _definitely_  aren't meant to go through all this, and I could be doing better.

        "It really was all my fault," they say, and I do the only thing I can . . taking them up in my arms and carrying them.  After-all, I still haven't even bothered cleaning up the ketchup off the floor, and I'm all covered in the shame of a stupid joke gone wrong, one that I wasn't even trying to make.

        "if it _really_   _was_  all your fault little buddy, then i wouldn't have you here.  remember that."

  
  
**Innocent  
 _G_  
   u  
     i  
    l   
 t    
y        
**   
  


        "you know, a _loong_  time ago, or maybe yesterday, who knows, paps used to ask to be carried like this.  he'd fall asleep on the couch, and back when he was just a baby bones, it was easy carrying him up and down all those steps, but well . . you see him now."

        I push against the monster's chest and whine.  "Bed?  I don't want to go there!"  Sans just laughs it off, and I bury my face in his hoodie.  "I  _mean_  it."

        "i never said you were going to bed.  whoa, i really  _rattled_ your bones there, huh?"

        I nod my head.  "Mhmm . ."

        "well, trust me on this one kid.  remember when i said you grow when you eat?  well, you grow when you sleep too, and then the next thing  _i_  know, you'll be six feet tall, and i'll have to feel short again."

        I look up at him.  "You . . um, joking, right?"

        "now what gave you that idea? . ."   He sets me down on the couch and plops down next to me.  I crawl onto his lap, facing away from him and reaching behind me to play with the strings from his hoodie.  "uhh, okay.  didn't think i'd be as comfortable as the couch, but this is cool too."

        "I'm not hurting you, am I Sans?"

        He laughs suddenly, leaning forward and squishing me a little.  "man, you should be a comedian."  He messes up my hair again and leans back, but then it gets quiet, and I turn to look at him.  "uh, i just thought about it, but . . ."  He's rubbing his hand against his face, and I poke him in the chest to get him to finish his sentence, but the fact my drawing's still on his head FILLS me with determination, and I so poke him there, too.  "we don't have any brushes here.  don't exactly . . have hair, as you can see.  skeletons don't even have to wash all that much so . .  _stop_  poking me."

        I do as I'm told and stop poking him, and I take my hand and mess up my hair some more.

        "uh . . i know i told ya to stop poking me . . but now you're just being silly."

        "I'm starting a new hair style that all the monster's will love!"

        He nods.  "uh huh."

        I throw out my arms and shout, "I'm going to be a fashion monster like Mettaton some day!"

        Sans coughs.  "r-really now?  well, the next time you meet him up in hotland, uh, that reminds me . ."

   _("The skeleton's stuttering . . ?  How does a skeleton even stutter his words?")_

        "you need to be careful with that essay question.  i was at grillby's with paps and he about had a heart attack . . not that he had anything to worry about, giving the fact we have no heart, so to speak."

        I move my head to the side, trying to remember . . but then I smile real big when I start to remember Mettaton asking what I liked best about him, and we were on t.v., and I told him different things each time.  I also remember his silly dress when he was singing about his love fell down the dungeon and he set up that puzzle and the flame throwers, but I wasn't in any real danger, and that uh . . weird cooking show, and then our fights and the crowd went wild!  I REALLY liked it when I pressed the button on his back and he grew tall and looked almost HUMAN, wearing SHINY PINK BOOTS.  

        "that really  _is_  a family friendly tv show kid.  i don't care if he was trying to kill you, where did you even learn language like that?"

         I hug my chest and start to giggle.  He always made chasing me into a game, and Alphys was always real sad because she didn't think she should have friends and helping me out made her feel better.  He wasn't  _really_ trying to kill me . . at least when I wasn't killing anyone.

        "uh huh, that's real mature―"

        "Hell yeah!  Fuck!" 

        Just then, I cover my mouth.

        I slowly turn around . .

        _("That really seemed to get on the skeleton's nerves, even though he doesn't have any.")_

Sans is still smiling, but he lost the lights in his eyes . .

        "Um, Sans?"

        "okay.  so bad little monsters get soap in their mouth."

        He picks me up and we start getting closer to the bathroom―

        "No no please!  I'll be good!  I promise!"

    "Soap?  He's insane!"

        I beat my hands against his back until he stops.  I keep wiggling, trying to get him to let me go, but he holds me out to look at him.

        "oh really?"

        I nod my head.

        "Yes, really."  
_  
("It's a Mexican stand-off.  You don't want the soap, and Sans wants to be a jerk.")_

        I bite my lip, waiting for Sans to make his move.  He winks.

        "okay, i'll take your word for it.   _this_ time."

     _("Realizing that we barely escaped a fate worse than death . . fills us with determination.")_

        I blink, and then we're back on the couch.  I stare blankly at the wall, confused.  "Did I just―"

        "huh?― oh, no!  uh, short cut."

        Memories of the times where Sans would take me to Grillby's . . when we would walk the wrong way, but then just show up there . . start to fill my mind.  I nod my head so he knows I was listening, but I can't stop thinking about how he would wink, and how I was too shy to say anything, but that was always . . part of what scared me most about him.  How he could just appear anywhere and always seemed to know what was going on.  Even at the MTT resort, after our 'talk' when he admitted that it was his job to kill me, he snapped his fingers, disappearing like a ghost, and I never wanted to think about him being there to judge me for everything I did wrong.

        "so . . i'd like to try something."

        I let the memories go, so they can rest and pay a visit later.  I turn around on his lap and grab onto the front of his coat.  "What is it?"

        "yeah?  well, i thought that since i never really took the time to get to know ya, other than . . when we . . never mind.  i was thinking we could make it into a game."

        "A game?"

        "yeah.  you tell me a secret, and then i tell you a secret.  it's as easy as that."  
_  
("You look into his eyes . . and you look into those lights . . and beyond those lights, you look into the back of his skull.  The skeleton wants to trick you.  Don't do it―")_

        "Okay, but you go first."

    "But you take the dice and roll . . trying to ignore the feeling that everything's about to go horribly wrong."

 

 

[(Go Back)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7364530/chapters/16727431)

[(Move Forward)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7364530/chapters/23141604)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is also over on my deviantart:
> 
> http://izzymarrie.deviantart.com/art/All-That-Sparkles-Undertale-Mini-Series-Index-602615993


	3. What Gets Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Redemption is a long road. Takes commitment. And understanding.

## "What Gets Left Behind"

**written by** : Sara Hervey 

(aka [IzzyMarrie](http://izzymarrie.deviantart.com/) , also 'The Major')

**characters from Undertale  
** **Undertale © Toby Fox**

 

Intro:  
After the events of What You Try To Leave Behind,  


a cacophony of love and hate clash together,  
pain and forgiveness joining in order to make a melody,  
but they are still far from understanding,  
far from reaching their perfect ending.

However, for Sans, Chara, and Frisk,  
they will soon learn that maybe perfection  
is in the realization that not everything can be perfect,  
and yet still never giving up hope in trying.

After-all, it's not all the pretty words,  
the 'I'm sorry's' and the 'I love you's' that matter the most,  
but the actions and the intent that leave an impression,  
the love and the hope we hold onto,  
and the love and the hope that gets left behind.

But when all the bets are in,  
and the tables turn,  
will something else entirely remain,  
and threaten to destroy them once and for all?

**   L̲a͔͎̳͢u͍̟̮g̲̦̹̲̖h̗̻i̶n͏̥̗̝g̯͎ͅ ** **  Out  ** ** L͚̠̰̻̯o̭u̥̣d̼͉̜͚̞̜    
** _   
(̜͓͕͎ͅ ̺̠̳͈,,make ,,x ,,/op̛ ̧̯̳̰͈)̨̙͎̠͖ _

****

  


****When the kid said 'yes' to my question, I had to thank my lucky stars because I _really_ didn't know what else we were supposed to do at that point.  Sure, going back and trying things a different way and then moving forward might work, but a part of me is still fighting to keep them _away_ from all the other monsters, because as long as the kid stays here, the others are guaranteed to be safe . .

       Which isn't true, one bit.  God how I just want this all to end, but this is just one story that never seems to want to be put to rest.  All those memories where the damn  _flower_ was making our lives hell, the times where I had only a vague recollection and an unexplained urge to run but to where, I don't know . . it doesn't make me feel any better, only **worse,** because I am so _desperate_ for control over a kid who just happens to share the same power as the weed, so **_sick_** because I _know_ I can't keep them here forever, but knowing the moment I stop watching could be the end of everything and not just a simple reboot―

       And when did life moving backwards become normal?  Because it's not.

       I don't know what I'm supposed to say.  What secret could I tell the kid that doesn't expose me for the sick, bitter skeleton that I am, a shell of a monster that used to actually _mean_ something?  Can they actually see right through me?  Figuratively, not literally, because shit, I'm _not_ a friend, but a cruel person that deserves the absolute worse.

       I'm failing, _bad,_ and I know I have to say something, but hell if I actually tell the kid anything they could use against me.  A secret for a secret, what a **joke,** and knowing that I agreed to go first makes me feel exposed for the world to see.   _Scratch that._  I'm getting stage fright in front of a maniac kid, a goddamned _baby,_ who keeps dangling happiness in front of me like a dog treat and then snatching it away like it's a game and wearing the same stupid, fucking grin―

       I have to get up.  This isn't right.  I can't _do_ this―

       But I HAVE to.

       Leaving the anomaly confused and waiting for me as I run across the room, I slide across the floor and― "just where I left it!"  I laugh, somewhat relieved.  It's been a while since I actually went through all these old books, and so I grab the random assortment and plop back down next to the kid . . I mean, next to Frisk.  It's just _Frisk_ and their demon friend . .

       Wow.  I _really_ need to calm down, because I have a new theory on inertia, but I don't think it's  _gaining_ any momentum.

       "okay.  so.  you know how when you came here with papyrus that one time, and you started going through my joke book?"

       The kid's eyes go wide, and they're holding themselves like―

       "oh no!  no, you're not in trouble or anything like that."

       I laugh, and the kid laughs too, small and weak, and I'm obviously out of my mind, but I can't stop, and so I turn to some random page, and there's the beginning of one of my notebooks.

       "okay, so i don't know if you know this about me yet, but i was always kind of a nerd.  see?  i've dabbled in chemistry, but my true specialty was always quantum mechanics, and you see these equations kid?"

       The kid tilts their head, and it's kinda cute.  I let out a nervous chuckle, thinking about what it'd be like to one day teach them, but then I notice how they're shaking, and I pointedly ignore it and pull out some papers to shove in their hands.

       "they're no joke.  see?  i've spent a lot of my free time delving into multi-variable vector calculus, and i keep a lot of my formulas here . ."

       I open my work book, and inside it is another joke book which I tear open to find my statistical mechanics book instead, to which I just open up and find another smaller joke book on the inside.  I toss the former, letting it disappear to where I won't have to deal with it and my phase of delving into probability theories and years of slaving over what variable―

       "S-Sans?"

       Shit.  The kid's letting my papers fall out of their lap, but I can't stop now.  I'm already in motion!  So I just open up the last joke book so I can flip through the smaller quantum physics book inside, and I have good memories with these books.  A lot of them.

       "but you want to know something funny?  papyrus still thinks i'm doing homework, but the real kicker is, i haven't gone to school in _years,_ and neither has he!  paps never really liked math like i did.  you should've seen the way he'd just stare at the paper in front of him and yell 'why is there every letter of the alphabet in my math homework?'  he really hated decimals, and i think after several years of his teacher getting _tired_ of his teaching skills being questioned, he finally _got the point_ and let him pass."

       I quickly gather my papers from the floor, shoving them back into one of my work books before tossing them all aside.

       "there, that's two secrets, and so, uh, it's your turn, only, there's a condition."

       I wait, nervously rubbing the back of my skull as the kid, I mean, _Frisk,_ just frowns, and I get this weird feeling that I just made them want to kill me and everyone else, and I feel grief.  This is unhealthy.  This is beyond ridiculous.  But then, I remember,  _I_ have the power here.  The kid is at _my_ mercy, and so―

       And so I am the adult here, and Frisk sure as _hell_ isn't going to kill me right now, or maybe ever, and this is _sick._  But a part of me just can't let go of the thought of this is a  _human,_ and the _humans_ made our lives a living hell.

       I was doing fine just a moment ago.  So then why does suddenly being alone here with them make me nervous all over again?  It's not like I wasn't alone with them ten seconds ago.

       But ten seconds ago, I wasn't showing them my work books.

       Could it be I'm actually _embarrassed_ to show them my work?  I mean, it isn't my actual work, just some scribbles and stress release on a page―

       "Sure.  Um . .  What is it?"

       Suddenly, I feel a huge wave of relief wash over me.

       "well, since you insisted that i tell you more than my fair share of secrets, i'm gonna have to ask that your friend tell me one too."  This definitely isn't healthy, and I'm holding my breath again.  "y'know, to make it even.  i mean, i think in reality i told you like five secrets, and so you could think of it as a bargain!"

       In a flash, the room goes cold, and I instantly regret what I said.

       "Sans."

       My head cracks, and I'm staring at them, ready to throw them against the wall―  but they're just staring back, holding my jaw.  I'm breathing through my teeth, still holding my smile the best I can.  Can they tell I'm faking it?

       "I, um . . _well . ._ I actually like . . I really like music."

       In that moment, a warmth like a gentle current fills the room, and the blue light of my magic shuts off.  I stare . . and I . . I laugh, and Frisk just looks at me with all the wonder in those eyes.  There's a charm in such innocence.  "oh?  really?  what kind?"  All this time, I've been over-thinking it.

       Frisk tucks some hair behind their ear, looking like they're chewing the inside of their cheek in thought.  "C-can you play the trombone for me?"

       The question comes out of no where, but it's just so innocent . . that I can't help but love em for it.  "sure kid, but don't give me any _treble_  if i don't sound good."  The giggling mess on my lap throws their arms around me, and I stand up, pausing in thought.  "i only really practiced one song."

       This doesn't seem to bother Frisk, who just hums that one tune I like to plague my brother with and claps their hands.  I laugh, fond memories warming my heart of the different timelines where my favorite person and my favorite kid were hanging out as I'm holed up in my room listening the whole time, planning the perfect moment to pop out and play my incidental music.

       How . . did things go so _wrong_ with the kid?  There ain't a reason in the world that I can think of that would make it fair, especially considering . . just how young, how _innocent_  Frisk really is―

      _"yeah, but their guilt was real.  they knew what they were doing, and they knew it was wrong, but they did it anyway."_

       I really have to get a grip.  For both my sake, and Frisk's.  It really isn't fair to them at this point, because it's obvious, they're just a child―

       "a _child who's killed my friends probably a dozen more times than I can remember, and who i **watched**  die."_

"Sans . ."

       My kid's whining, and I start to pat their back like I would Paps when he was young, because, the heavens as my witness, I'm _not_ giving up on them.

       "ah, just when i thought i was off the hook for what i said.  truth is, i know a few songs.  you got me.  hey, what's with the look?"

       Because they just need someone to believe in them, to help them along the way, right?  Something, for once, _has_ to change.  Something, for once, _has_ to last.  And Frisk has  _definitely_ suffered with the rest of us― not that it makes things even better.  It's no laughing matter, and it's no time for me to lay this matter to rest.

       No one else has to die, and for the sake of my own redemption―

       "Um . . m-my . . _friend . . says . ._ chocolate is the best, but that's no secret but that's too bad and you'll have to take it."

       And for the sake of everyone, including the bundle in my arms―

       "well, i guess they're right.  tell em they won?"

       I'll go through hell and back as long as they still hold that light in their eyes.  Not because I can, or that I even should, but because, whether it's the right thing to do or not, I'd rather know that there was a timeline that despite everything, I actually cared enough to try.  
  


  
( . . save you.  I _can't . . )_

**:'}** **The Dead Can't Cry** **D':**   
_(a Terrible, TERRIBLE mistake!)_

 

        There is nothing left in this world but lies, compassion another one of the unnecessary stories we tell ourselves.  In the end, I think I understand, but no matter which way I look at it, it's disgusting.  Humans, monsters, we are all animals.  Social connections only fuel our egos and benefit our goals.  So to say there is love in this world is like saying there is the need to fuck.  Yes, we need to make babies, but we also need to fucking _love_ our fellow child in order to _feel_ like a man. 

        There is no _hope_ if you are born unlucky, and there is no _love_ unless you count the way the feeling **_fucks_ ** you over again and again.

        The feeling of compassion in your heart is like a disease, tasting of bile and rotting me from within like the bitter taste of the buttercups that twisted my insides.  The only difference is that unlike before, **_there is no choice._**  Who is really in control?  I play you, you play me, but that feeling in your soul . . makes me feel empty, defeated, and so I'm―

        Could it actually be that you  _want_ to save me?

         **What a pity.  You are too _stupid_ to survive.**

        Sans sets you down on his bed, and I hop up next to you and watch as a small dog runs inside, jumping right into the trash tornado.  An annoying 'yip yip' cries from within the mess of papers and other trash, and the look of panic and the glow of Sans's left eye and hand intensifies as the skeleton gravitates the little squish toy from harm's way.

        "oh come on pup!  what are you doing?  don't tell me you wanted to _hang out_ that bad?  ha . ."

        You make a face, and I smile as I grab you from behind. "What, I'm sure it would make a cute little **_squeak_** if we killed it.  Wanna try?"

        You quickly shake your head, and I rest my chin on your shoulder.  "Fine.  Remembering the work shop, are we?"

        "oh, kid, uh . . this is . . pup.  okay, pup?  meet the human."

        I stretch out my arms and yawn, landing a kiss on your temple as you start to get off the bed.  You turn around and look at me, but I just wave you off so you can **pet** your little friend. "Go on, get."But just like the annoying dog, you keep looking at me with those big eyes, but at least you're not barking.

        You turn around, slowly reaching out to stroke its fur when I say, "Good Frisk,"and then you scrunch up like a little poof ball and stare at the ground.

        Sans is just wonderful, patting your head and getting down on his knee so that the puppy can lick your face and clean up your tears.  All those feelings of how great the skeleton is, even his shirt that he let you wear that says 'punny guy', and you throw away all the memories of every _bad time_ you had with him.

        "frisk, hey buddy, how 'bout we play with the pup for a bit, okay?  maybe the pup wants to hear us put on a concert?  think that may be _paw_ sible?"

        I lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling.  "He's even serenading you before he kills you this time!  He must have more planned.  What a charming guy.  What an amazing date!   **He's about to**   **FILL**   **you with determination . ."**

        You're pulling on his shirt, and whispering in his ear . . skull, I don't even know how his body works.  I can't hear you, but hell if I care.  He looks over at me . . almost like he can see me . . but he can't, and I let out a breath that I didn't even know I was holding.

        Sans looks back down at you and summons a little bone with his magic.  He places it in your hand, and you toss it across the room, laughing as the puppy runs after it and brings it back.

        It's stupid, but for some reason, it makes me . . blood is leaking from my eyes again, and it hurts . . _so much . ._  because I **don't** understand . . and it almost felt like he could  _see_ me . .

        I sit up and scoot to the opposite end of the bed, watching as the skeleton goes through his dresser drawer and pulls out his trombone.

        "okay, so there are many types of trombones, like the valve trombone, and even the superbone."  He plops down on his treadmill, drooping his arms over his knees as the puppy crawls into your lap and barks at him.  Sans leans forward, and the puppy licks his face, more importantly, that stupid _thing_ you drew on him.  "okay pup, no talking in class."  It yips again and starts to gnaw on the bone Sans gave you and you laugh, kissing the puppy's head.  Sans lets out a sigh, poking the puppy.  "you buddy, are about to have a  _ruff_ day."

        You finally notice how the dog licked away most of your art, leaving just a smudge, and you slap your forehead.

        "what's the matter kid?"

        You don't tell him how the world's greatest master piece was licked away by the world's cutest puppy, the ultimate story of an artist's struggle against the cutest forces of nature.  Instead, you say, "Sans . . but you said we were going to play music, not go to school!"

        Sans's brow quirks, and his grin grows even bigger as he lets out a laugh.  "okay, now that was funny.  for that, i give you a 'C' for being clever, but if you want to eventually learn how to play like this―"

        He plays a funky tune, and I slide over to your side of the mattress.

        "then you're gonna have to get _schooled_ , capiche?"

        I slowly get off the bed, sitting next to you as he holds up the trombone.  "this is a bass trombone, which is just a fancy way of saying that my trombone's  _bass_ ically identical to that of the tenor trombone, but with a wider bore, a larger bell, and a larger mouth piece."  While he's talking, he points to different parts of the instrument, letting you touch it as he explains.  "just think of me versus papyrus kid.  my voice is deeper than his, with a weightier tone, and his is well . . uhh . . well, compared to a tenor . . wow, you look  _really_ confused."

        Your eyes are closed, and you're hunched over, and I let out a laugh, shoving you a little.  Your body leans to the right, and I can see you smile as you fall the other way towards me.  You can't push me, because you phase right through me, but you're still smiling from your dorky spot on the floor.  I don't even bother asking what you're doing, because there's some mysteries that are better left unsolved.

        "uh, kid?  just . . chilling with the ground?  i never would have guessed you were so  _down to earth._ I know I said before you needed to make friends, but I don't know how my floor's gonna help you any."

        You giggle, and I tilt my head as I poke you with my foot.  The mystery of the Friskicus, the one and only creature of its kind.  It is a wonder you have survived this long in the wild, but through the work of your determination, and stupid luck, you live to hug the ground another day.

        "oh no.  i didn't break you did i?"  The skeleton rushes over to you and frantically feels your forehead, dramatically clasping his chest and falling over in misery.  "i broke the human, pup!  oh, i'm done."

        Your tiny body shoots up like a spring, and you crawl over to him and start to shake him.  "No you're not!  You're _not!_  Get up you big kidder!"

        He grabs you, and you scream, and then you start laughing as he plays another funky tune.  "only a big kidder can kid with a kid who thinks they're a bigger kidder than the big kidder."

        The puppy is growling, trying to get in the middle of you two when it suddenly bites down on Sans's hand.  He holds it up, clearly not impressed.  "ow . ."  
          
        "Bad puppy!" you yell, and Sans continues to stare at the menace eye level.  "okay you little nerd, i got a _bone_ to pick with you."

        The dog whines before letting go, dropping to the floor with a _plop._ Itgives me another look and growls, suddenlywalking in a circle before laying down on your lap.  "Good pup pup."  You reward it with a pat, and its tail starts to wag.  Sans pets the puppy too, and it opens an eye, staring at me and growling once more before going to sleep.

        This seems to confuse the skeleton, who removes his hand from the fur pile and gives it a look of concern.  The puppy whines, and Sans slowly starts to pet it again after it opens its eyes and starts to lick his fingers.  "hey pup, it's alright―"

        "Hey, Sans?"

        The skeleton looks at you mid-pet, moving his hand from the annoying dog and setting it to his side.  "yeah?  what is it kid?"

        You pretend you're a mime, and you play a tune with your invisible instrument.

        "oh yeah!  anyway, back to my lesson."

        You sigh, loudly, and I laugh as you cover your face with your hands.  After-all, there is no hope.  There is only Sans.

        "oh?  so my lessons are that boring huh?  okay.  here you go!  it's all you."

        He hands you the instrument . . and it's so big in your hands . .

        "go on.  take the stage.  you're the star."

        You stare at it, wondering if you should even try it.  But then suddenly, you look at me and smile.

        I don't understand, and I look at Sans who looks over at me, but he can't _see_ me and so he looks back at you.  "kid, is that where―"

        And he DOES know!  You ratted me out!  No denying it now!  My head starts to spin, and of _course_ you did, and I start to laugh and cry, and I'm on the ground.  The floor is on my face, and this is just so stupid and beautiful because it's FINALLY something I understand . .  
      
        "Hey . ."

        I look up, and it's just you, smiling.

        "Come on!  I know you want to try it!"

        And I can't be crying, because the dead _can't_ cry.

        But I want to try it so bad . . and you're letting me into your body.  It's so stupid, and you're making a mistake, but isn't this what those in power do?  Take advantage?  But the trombone is in my hands― _your_ hands . . _o-our_ hands?

        The instrument is heavy, the mouth piece ridiculously big for me, but it's still so cool, and I blow into it . . but no sound comes out.

        Of course.

        . . Well, that was fun.

        "hey, here, you almost got it―"

        The skeleton's hand touches me, and I flinch, staring at him and waiting for the moment I can make this body kill him.  But he moves away, a _smart_ move.  Because I really _really_ want to finish this lesson before we make him disappear.

        "alright, i won't touch you."

        But my heart's still pounding in my chest, and the skeleton's head is hung low with his eye sockets blank and empty.  His hands are where I can see them, in the air, and I don't know if I should say something.  Anything.  I feel like suddenly . . like I know _shouldn't._ He hates me more than he hates you and it's not fair, but I get it.   _I get it._ And it's not like it matters anyway.

        "all brass instruments . . their sound is produced when you blow into it, but i'm a little different because i don't need lips to cause the air column inside to vibrate, because i can do that myself with my magic.  so you just have to―"

        I blow, as hard as I can, and it makes a sound, and it sounds . . it sounded like a―

        "oh, okay, so that was a toot!"

        Oh _God . ._

        "h-hey!  what's with the face?  you're getting it!"

        I shove the trombone back into the skeleton's hands and stand up, but I― your _soul_ is reaching out to me, and I can't move.  I just stare at the ground, too confused to do anything.

        "listen kid, i don't know what's going on, but you're not frisk."

        I whip around and take a step back, getting ready for a fight, but he's―

        his eye's glowing, because he's scared, as he _**should**_ be.  _**I'm** _ in control.   **He _won't_ hurt me.**

        "look, if you're in for a bad time, **don't.**  for just this once, let's try something else, alright?"

         _"You're not a demon, okay?"_

        I feel a pain in this chest, and it hurts, because it feels like **_dying._**  I step back, shaking my head, clasping your chest―

        "Stop it.  Get away―"

         _"So let me save you!  I can't STOP until you realize you're not a terrible, TERRIBLE mistake!"_

        I look up, and the skeleton monster is right there, and I can't KILL him because you don't have the heart, and I'm frozen, waiting for the killing blow―

        "hey, so i know you're new to this, but that's no way to greet a friend."

        He's holding out his hand for me, and it doesn't make any sense!  There's nothing left for me in this world.

        But it's a new game.  So I'll play it.  I take his hand, squeezing it in reminder of the time I killed him.

        But his eyes light up, and he places the trombone back in my arms.  

        I just don't understand . . 

        "right, so you see this slide?  you need to move it if you wanna change the pitch."

 

** Left Behind in the Dark   
** **♪** **( ̳͒•▿• ̳͒)** **ฅ** **✿**

        There's a lot of things I love to do.  I love to explore.  I love to make new friends.  I also love to make people smile and have fun.  But right now, I love watching.

        From the moment I fell from the mountain, you were with me.  Every time we reached the surface, you were left behind with Flowey, and my selfish wish to make everything perfect kept turning back time, just like when I made a mistake I wanted to fix, or I wanted to see something else happen.

        I never gave you my body though, but all along, you just wanted a turn being alive.  Now, you don't have to take, we can just share!  Because . . Flowey was in so much pain . . thinking he couldn't feel anything . . but I think I'm starting to understand.  The dead just need a little help being alive again in order to be truly happy!

        Asriel said he would keep turning back into Flowey without the other souls to keep his body the way that it used to be, and without them, he wouldn't be the same person anymore and he'd do terrible things.  Your body isn't what it used to be either.  So . . maybe the two of you just need a better body because you have trouble coming back like the rest of us?  I wouldn't want to be stuck in the dark place either.  It's lonely.

        It feels nice watching you have a turn, and Sans looks afraid . . and a little mad, but he's still trying, and it's going to be okay.  You're trying.  We both are, and it makes me feel like never giving up so that no one will ever give up hope again.  After-all, no one really has to die.  No one has to feel lonely.

        "So.  How does a skeleton play with no lips?  And don't say magic.  And how does a skeleton even need to breathe?"

        Sans is leaning against the wall, arms crossed and watching as you play another tune.  You're still not that good, but you're getting better.  You're a fast learner.

        "just magic.  so, how old are you?"

        Sans's question makes you feel funny, and I feel like maybe I should take a turn.  But you just laugh it off, brushing invisible dirt from my shoulder.  "Oh?  So you _don't_ remember?"

        Sans keeps looking at his phone.  Earlier, his phone kept beeping, and ever since then, he's looked worried.  "remember _what?"_

        "Anyway, how come you bled when I killed you?  Don't you monsters just turn to dust when you're dead?"

        _"Stop it!"_  I yell, but you don't seem to hear me, and I try to take back my body, but all I can do is watch from my own eyes as Sans turns on his magic.

        "who the hell said i was bleeding?" he says, patting the large lump on his stomach.  "i keep a lot in here."

        "Huh."  You turn around to look at the door, and then slowly look back at Sans.  "Like ketchup and other junk?"

        Sans looks down at his phone again.  "yeah, something like that."

        Everyone goes quiet, and there's not much I can do but try and calm you down.  I don't understand how everything can go wrong so fast.  Weren't we all just happy?

        You set the trombone down and lean it against the wall.  "Yeah, well," you smile, rolling my neck until the bone cracks, "that's stupid."

        Sans continues to watch as you stretch out my arms.  You're winking at him, backing up against the door and leaning against it.

        "and i don't appreciate your irony, brat."

        Your smile turns into a frown.  It's confusing being dead.  You're only mean because you don't understand how to be nice.  "You know, we never finished our game, _Sansy._  I'm starting to get bored."

        Sans's smile widens.  "well, i'm not as great of host as papyrus."  Magic flames dance around his hand, and his head rolls to the side.  "you should show me some respect, and don't call me that, _**ever**_ ** _."_**

        "Fine."  You cross my arms and stare at the ceiling.  You start tapping my foot in boredom, digging my nails into my arm until it hurts.  "Okay," you say, moving from the door and scratching me some more, "I meant a secret for a secret.  So here's mine.  I  _really_ don't like you."

        Sans's phone beeps again, and he looks at it before stuffing it in his pocket.  Now both his hands are in his pockets.  "that's not a secret, kid, but if you really want to keep playing, let frisk have their body back."

        _"'Their'?"_ You lick my lips and then bite down, shaking your head. "Are you _that_ stupid?"

        Sans grits his teeth.  "you really have a charm to you . ."  He's smiling, but he's faking it.  He forces a laugh.  "it's not every day trash can talk, let alone speak complete sentences."

        _"Stop fighting you two!"_ I yell, but nobody can hear me.

        You nod my head, as if you're thinking about what Sans said to you.  But he only said it because he's mad.

        _"You're not being very nice to him."_   I try and tell you.   _"You're not trash, and he's not_ ― _"_

        "Scratch that.  You're not stupid.  You're just a jerk, just like everyone else."

        I can't control the words coming out of my mouth, or stop you from hurting him again.  I'm helpless, like a puppet.

        "you're at _my_ mercy, and i'm the jerk?"

        "All I am to you is an  _'it'._ Everyone calls us that, whether they say they love us or not.  It's always _'they' 'they' 'their'_ ― _"_

        _"_ _Oh, I get it. You wanna be friends, huh..?"_

        Flowey had just broken his dad's soul for a fourth time, and I was shaking after finally realizing that I couldn't keep the king from killing himself.

         _"You're PATHETIC."_

        And I am, I really am, but I KNOW that I can fix everything if I just try!  Flashes of memory, moving pictures play like they're from a broken tape that I― isn't real, why... _why...._

        I look up, and Sans's eyes are normal again, white lights suddenly shining as his mouth hangs open.  "oh god, wait, god, i didn't think―"

        "Didn't think?  Your brother put us in a big cage with a dog bowl!  None of you even learned Frisk's _name_ until the _weed_  as you call him thought to ask!"

        But Flowey was just mad, mad that I killed him after I― I stomp my feet and yell because FLOWEY kept saying how he'd kill everyone, so what was I― because he was only a PART of Asriel, NOT the same as when he, after taking all the souls and he― he CRIED as he set everyone free.  He asked me my name!  That dumb thing wasn't Asriel, so I killed him.   _I_  went to the dark place AGAIN.

        And now I'm crying, you're crying, and Sans is trying to grab us―

        "what are you talking about?  hey―"

        I don't WANT to . . to . . . I went back, and Flowey wasn't there to greet me.  He wasn't there when I turned around, but he was THERE when I reached the king!

        I step back.  Too real, too much.  You pull my hair as I reach for the door.

        " _Heh.. You really DON'T get it, do you?"_

        But I really DID try to stop it from happening, but Asgore offered me his soul, again, because we had fought until I could barely stand.  I kept begging him not to kill me, that dying HURTS.  He was so broken and in tears as he started to shake.  He finally fell to his knees, saying he wanted to be a family and would find mo― _T-Toriel_ ―so we could sit in the living room and eat pie!  He told me that I reminded him of the first human who fell, that I had the same look of determination in my eyes.  But then he KNEW we couldn't have that, so he . . . hoped I'd take his soul and escape from here.

        I smash my head, and at the same time Sans moves away, like he's scared of us.  Good.  We killed almost EVERYONE at least twice, and it hurts to die and come back again.  _**I hate it.**_

        "frisk?  frisk?  hey buddy, can you hear me?"

        " _There's only one person I could care about anymore.  And even then, I couldn't TRULY care about them."_

Let go, let go, he was just LYING because he just wanted YOU back again and was stuck repeating over and over―

_"I just like to think there's someone out there . . . someone that I won't get tired of._ _"_

Flowey was still Asriel even when he watched his dad try and spare me, watching his dad kill himself hoping I would take his soul and escape.

        "frisk!  come on kid, speak to me!"

        He loved you more than anything, seeing me and getting mad thinking of you, _you_ who were with _me,_ _you_ who he thought would be lost to him forever if he didn't do all this.

         _"Quit looking at me with that stupid expression._ _You're pissing me off."_

        "Now why would you say that when you don't care . . ?" you ask, and I try to shake you away―

        "i don't see how dancing's gonna bring frisk back, so unless you have a good explanation, _**you really need to play fair and do as i ask."**_

        I throw out my arm, sliding it against the wall.   _"Please.. stop it, Chara!  You're scaring me!"_

        "That's not me doing it, stupid!" you shout, and you slap my other arm against the one on the wall and try to move it.  "You can't stop it!  You're scaring me!  FRISK!"

        I let go, and I can feel my tears running down my cheeks as you touch them, looking at my wet fingers and shaking my head.

        Suddenly, I can move again, and you're facing the wall and on the ground, rocking back and forth and holding your head.  I hug myself as you give me a scary look that makes my chest hurt, my breath taken away as I grab at my throat and try to breathe.  It hurts _so much_ and your skin is so tight and dry, your eyes gone and dripping down your face, your lips stretched into a terrible grin―

        I can feel myself picked off the floor.  We're both crying, and I try to fight so I can get to you, but I'm being held too tightly.  Blood is pouring from your open mouth, and you wipe away the stuff leaking from your eyes as you turn away to look at the wall.

        "You only think you want everything to end because you're scared because of what we've done, but no matter how many times I try and reach you, it's like the darkness is determined to keep pulling you in even more―STOP IT!"  I hit my friend so I can run to you, because you sound like you're trying to breathe but you _can't!_

        Sans grabs me again, and I kick him.

        "frisk!  hold on, listen!"

        You turn around, and I hold out my hand.  It feels like fire as I pull you in, and I cough and shake as I try to breathe.

      _"'Please,'_ Frisk said, _'I just want to be happy.'_  And I felt it too."

        Sans just wipes away the hair from our face and grabs us, hugging us close as he shakes.

        "I just wanted to be happy!"

        And it's like we're on fire, but I REFUSE to let that awful place have you!  
          
        "And so I brought Frisk back, and we started all over again."  


 

 **(Can't Spell DETERMINATION Without TERMINATION)**

 **♪** **♪** **♪** **♪** **♪** **♪** **♪** **♪** **♪** **♪** **♪**

   
  
        "I don't even remember if I slipped or jumped!"

        I'm choking, and you feel like sickness, but you feel like a friend, and Sans feels like death, but he FEELS like forgiveness, and so we make him sick again and again as he kills us with kindness.

        "shh-shh . . it's okay buddy, it's―"

        We wrap our arms around him, and he's like a safety bubble keeping us away from the bad world outside.

        "But I REALLY don't understand why you don't indulge yourself more.  If it's really so hopeless, why is it so wrong to _give up_ and kill all your friends?"

        I scream as I cry, shaking my head because I don't even KNOW who I am anymore!  And I feel like death, and I feel like sickness, and I DON'T deserve his mercy.

        "because that is a really shitty deal, kid.  just because you have the power to keep going back, doesn't mean you should so you can keep hurting the people who love you most."

        "How many kids did you kill?" we ask, and it feels like for once, we are the **same**.

        He stops petting our back and holds us tighter, burying his face into our shoulder.  "d-did you know . . papyrus never saw a human before you, frisk?  buddy?  he really didn't know you were just like us, and hell, he even blamed himself the times you started killing because he tried to fight you.  he thought the WORLD of you, knew you just needed a friend, and blamed himself for giving you the wrong impression of us monsters."

        I grab the back of his head and try calming him down.  Grown-ups aren't supposed to cry.

        "i saw the last seconds right before you killed him, and both times he just _stood_ there with his hand out to you, and i didn't even know when snowdin was evacuated, but he even believed in you when he was dying, and why'd you do it . . why him―"

        "Because it hurts."

        _("He's trying to stop himself from killing us, but any moment, we're going to die.")_  
  
        "what hurts kiddo?  living?  because I know, i know it does baby-bones, but you know this is wrong don't you?  and i know you tried, you really did, but we just didn't know.  but there was always that good in you still, and i was waiting for the end when you finally spared him, and you were crying on the ground as he wrapped his scarf around you . ."

         I'm bad, and I know I'm bad, and I deserve to be burning in hell, and I can't let him hate me for his!  So I kiss his skull, and he pulls back and looks at me like I did something wrong.

        "frisk.. what're you doing?"

        "I love you Sans."

        The lights in his eyes disappear, and it feels like he's staring deep into my soul.  But I can't turn back now.  I can't run away from my sins.

        "I'm always . . so alone in the dark place, and I'm so _scared_ when I'm there."

♥

        The skeleton wipes away our tears, and it's stupid because we're not worth his effort.  We're not worth the time because we're determined to give up, scrubbing everything clean until everything is erased forever, including their memories of us and every mistake we made.

♥

        I grab onto Sans's hoodie, and bury my face in his chest.  "Sans . . how does it feel knowing you'll never see them again?"

        "what―?"

        "Sans, when can we meet the other kids?"

        I look up and can see his jaw bone.  He pushes me away, and gives us this weird look.  Did I say something wrong?  I just want to meet them!

        "kid, they're dead.  they ain't _coming_ back."

        "But why not?" I cry, and you start to laugh as we climb on top of him again and hold him.  "I just want to see them with their bodies.  How far do I have to go back?  I don't know how Sans!  So help me, please!"

        His phone rings again, and he throws it, and it hits the wall and shatters into a million pieces.

        "Sans!  I remember when I fell on the flowerbed and I saw myself fall all over again, but it wasn't me!  It wasn't, and I was so confused, but then I got up and I started walking, and there was a DOOR!  So I went through it, and I saw a talking flower with a cute little face, and it was bigger than the other flowers, and it was so nice I thought.  I was so happy to see a little talking flower, and he told me he would help."

        Sans is crying too, and his hand is curled into a fist.  "l-let's . . let's stop this, kid―"

        And you're not laughing anymore.  You're right in front of him, _we're_ right in front of him, and grabbing his shirt and pulling him to our face.

        "From deep within the darkness, he calls your name, and he _always_ grabs for Frisk but I _always_ grab first.  He's _always_ there saying your name . .  'Don't forget . . Don't forget me Sans.'"

        We're thrown off, covered in blue and floating as he backs into a corner.  "what the actual _fuck!?_  what the  _HELL_ do you know about gaster―?"

        He drops us, and his magic is like lightening and fire, blue and orange and―

        "That look on your face . . that's the look of someone who remembered something they shouldn't."

        I laugh, and I cry as I pull my knees to my face and scream.  "But the flower was MEAN, telling me he had 'friendliness pellets' and to run into them because that was how LOVE was shared through the underground, and when they hit me, it hurt so MUCH Sans!  But then mom―I mean, Toriel―showed up and then she chased him away!"

        "k-kid, i―"

        "And he went into the GROUND and left us there.  She took my hand and walked with me . . and gave me a phone, and it was so nice of her, but I didn't listen when she said to stay there, she'd be right back, because I wanted to look around.  I wanted to explore because I― but if she was nice, then maybe the others were nice too?  But I didn't have to FIGHT anyone, I'm sure of it!  Because then, there was another time, after I saved Flowey even though he stole all the human souls and then he stole YOUR souls too, and he was just―"

        "frisk, _please―"_

        "HURT because he wasn't WHOLE because he was DEAD and then I FOUGHT him and SAVED him Sans, I did . . ."

        "i . . i'm sure you did buddy. . ."

        The room is spinning, and I can't figure out where we are, if we're in a dream, or another time, or if this is just in my head because I don't know what's real anymore.  Maybe it's hell.  Kids like us DESERVE to be burning in hell!  
      
        You scratch our arm, and I cry as blood comes.  Sans rips our hand away.  "okay, we gotta go somewhere.  okay?  let's go to grillby's.  sound fun?  my treat?  getcha something to eat, okay?"

        I rip my arm away from him, but wait, was that me or you?  
      
        "He's so ALONE Sans!"  I stare at my hands all covered in dust, and I have to look up to see that Sans is still there.  He's still there, and he's alive.  I'm dust-free.

        "He fell didn't he?  Into the core?  The power-house of the underground?"  You laugh, and I scratch my shoulder.  "That's right, the thing he modeled off of my soul, running off one part determination, and another part geothermal energy turned into magical electricity, the scientist scattered across time and space, his hands reaching for knowledge, for comfort . . just like your friends, right?"

        "what are you―what the _hell_ are you talking about!?"

        "Because it's ONE thing to be dead, and another to be everywhere at once and not even EXIST in the memories of the people you loved!  And I see them Sans.  You somehow remembered, and you shouldn't have, not after what was done.  What did you DO?!"

        "shut the hell up.  i didn't DO anything!"

        "And so it was someone ELSE who stopped caring?  Didn't 'do' anything, that's exactly my point you jerk!"

♥

        You try to speak, but I won't let you, holding MY hand over MY mouth and making YOU shut the hell up.  And Sans is using the door as leverage, pushing on the knob so he can stand because his knees are too weak for him to stand on.  But I keep going, because he NEEDS to hate us!

         _("He NEEDS to hate us, Frisk!")_

♥

        "You screwed it all up because of my brother's messing with the timelines.  You WANTED to go back.  Admit it.  You wanted to bring him back so you could kill him.  You wanted to take his place in a time you actually mattered!"  
      
        I cry out in pain, against the wall, not able to breathe as I look down at Sans as he holds us up by our neck.

      _"I . . c-can't―"_  His arm is shaking.  He won't look at us.  

    _("We're ugly.")_

        Because we deserve it.

      _("We're nothing.")_

        But he lets us go anyway, scooping us up and holding us again, and he _feels_ like damnation.  I _feel_ like I'm breaking, but he _feels_ like judgement and love and―

        "He was crying, Sans, and then he broke the barrier and left giving everyone my name which I never told anyone because no one even asked."

        "oh kid . . ."

        "I took it away.  I broke all my promises."  I close my eyes.  We're both remembering too many things at once . . you and Asriel playing tag, me and Papyrus doing puzzles . . .

        "The two times we . . I didn't stay with . . with Toriel because she deserved her real son, not me, but I was so HAPPY being friends with everyone up there.  I really was!  I was the ambassador for the monsters, but by time I was asked again . . the second . . . I―"

        I open up my eyes.  We're no longer in Sans's room.  We're in Waterfall, and the sound of rushing water is just so beautiful . .  I stand up and run.  I don't CARE if Sans is following us or not.  I find the umbrella bag for travelers and grab a red umbrella, running to the statue that plays the little tune when I save it from the rain.

♥

        I feel a wave of sadness and desperation run over me.  I don't deserve your kindness.  I don't WANT your mercy.  I don't want to feel anymore, or for it to start all over . . .

♥

        Sans walks up beside us.  I hear him muttering something.  I can't help but feel bad for running, and so I grab his hand, looking down at the ground so I can't see if he's mad at me or not.

♥ 

        This is hell, **and it HAS to stop, it has to . . .**

♥

        The crystals around us . . . look like stars.  I remember when Sans knocked on my foster parent's door that one night so we could go up the hill to look at the stars, the real stars.  She was really nice, but most of the time, she was just happy to get the money from the state because they paid good money for her to take care of me.  She was happier when it was someone else taking care of me.

        "you really made some statue happy, huh pal?"

        I look up, and Sans is trying to smile, but he's still having trouble.  I squeeze his hand, and I smile for him.

        "I really am sorry . . ."

        It feels good to confess, but it feels so bad, and it's scary to tell Sans everything.  I'm crying again as he gets down on his knees.  He holds onto me tight, like I might float away or something.  He hums.  It reminds me of the time when Shyren, the shy monster in Waterfall was hiding in the corner and I hummed to her.  She started to sing, and it was real pretty!  It was like she was my band-mate, and we were rock stars, and then the weird horse― _I think he was a horse monster?_ ―was flexing his muscles . . nodding his head.  A-Aron?  He was her cousin, and he was weird, like please go away weird.  Then there were all these monsters gathering 'round, and even Sans showed up, tricking people out of their money by selling them tickets made out of toilet paper . . because it was normal, and we were having fun, and Sans has such a nice voice.  I wish he had sang with us.

        "shh, it's okay."  But it makes me sleepy though . . .  "i promise.  i'm not giving up on you.  either of you."

        With Sans putting on a concert just for us, I feel like I'm special, like he actually cares, but it makes me feel like―

        _"I'm even more bad than before."_

        _("Because we did something bad . . .")_

         _"He's holding me like mo―T-Tori would―"_

   _("Because Mom would get mad, but would always love me . . .")_

        "come on baby bones, it's okay.  it's going to be okay."

        But it's not, and I know it, because . .  Crying, I play with the hood of his jacket and shut my eyes.  The memories are there.  The bad dream won't go away because it's real.  It's not a dream, and there really was no reset button.  Everything we did, it was real, and the hurt will never go away.

        _("I'm responsible for making everyone suffer.")_

  "And when I came here again, I didn't remember how I got here at first, but it felt strange because I didn't remember anything, but I was so scared because it felt like it all happened, when m-mom . . I-I mean―"

        "kid, she loved you enough to let you go instead of making you stay forever in the catacombs with her.  she knew you needed sunlight, and she even asked me to watch over you.  remember?  back at the resort, what i said, the woman behind the door, the promise i made, you're her kid, you got that?"

        "When she was telling me that I shouldn't fight, that if I was in trouble, I should call her and s-stall for t-time by talking, she told me to talk to the dummy, but I ran away because for some reason, it was  _alive_  and it was out to get me and that's when . . after she left me alone and gave me the phone to call her if I needed anything . . I kept walking, and everything was so . . I even attacked two monsters, but I didn't think they'd die!  They turned to dust, and I was just so scared, but then I felt this feeling in my chest like . . like I did good?  Like I was . . supposed to do that?"

        Sans wipes away our tears with his thumb, holding our face with his other hand.  "listen―"

        "But Flowey told me before I left the ruins, just before I met you, what would I do if I met a relentless killer?  I got scared, and I didn't know it then, but someone else was scared too.  I didn't know how I knew it, but dying REALLY hurt!  I even remembered when Undyne did it, and that was REALLY scary . . ."  He's quiet again as we stare at the ground.  "And that really nice monster kid who followed me through Waterfall . . was just holding on the edge of the bridge . . because he slipped and was gonna fall but I couldn't move.  I couldn't SAVE him because I was so scared of Undyne, that scary armor, and how much she hated me and that bridge and of falling . . .  So I closed my eyes when he fell, and when she jumped down to save him . . he was saying how I just stood there!  Then the wind was howling, and I was filled with determination, but I was still just giving up on a friend, right?  I killed her, but she was always so scared for everyone else because she was afraid that humans would kill the people she loved."

♥

 We sneeze, and the skeleton sighs.  He's sick of us.  Again.  But then he does something strange . .  He takes off his jacket and puts it on us.  It doesn't feel so cold anymore.  We wipe the snot from our nose with our hand . . and we're gross.  So gross . .

♥

        "there . . last thing i need is you getting sick.  listen."  He pulls the hood over our head, tightening the strings and making the large jacket fit us around our head a little more.  But it's still really big.  And I feel like a pillow.  He smiles, patting us on the head.  "there's just some things you can't take back.  but i'll give you another chance if you give me one, okay?"

♥

And suddenly, it's okay that we're gross.

♥

        No one here is soulless.

        "i'm through giving up.  so whaddya say?  friends?"

♥

I'm feeling . . a little better.

♥

        And I'm filled with determination.  Something other than pain is left behind in the darkness.

♥

      And it feels nice.  It feels―

♥

        Like we can do better, so much better.

♥

        Like we're terminating something other than existence as our hearts beat as one.

♥

So we shake the skeleton's hand, laughing when the whoopie cushion goes off, because that spiel never gets old.

 

  
_(Turn Back)_  
[(Move Forward)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7364530/chapters/23141955)


	4. So All That Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking a moment's pause... taking some time to face reality, but reality is always speculative, right?
> 
> (FORGIVENESS)
> 
> "DARK DARKER YET DARKER. THE DARKNESS KEEPS GROWING. THE SHADOWS CUTTING DEEPER. PHOTON READINGS NEGATIVE. THIS NEXT EXPERIMENT SEEMS VERY VERY INTERESTING. WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK?"

## "So All That Remains"

**written by** : Sara Hervey 

(aka [IzzyMarrie](http://izzymarrie.deviantart.com/) , also 'The Major')

**characters from Undertale  
** **Undertale © Toby Fox**

****  
Intro :  
For the dead, it is like a piece of their soul goes missing,  
the longer they stay attached to the realm of the living.

And yet, from the moment time and space,  
dead and the living,  
were placed on a band and stretched,  
that which shattered is proving to be much more  
than what Sans, Frisk or Chara  
could ever hope to endure on their own.

What all is broken when reality  
 is constantly snapped back into place?  
Will Sans, Frisk and Chara reach understanding,  
find their missing pieces before it's too late?  
Or will the consequences of their actions  
create a rift that will destroy them all?

After-all, they are not the only broken hearts left behind,  
or all that remains of this under tale,  
for within the depths of the underground,  
more than just darkness remains.

  
  
  


** What's Never Easy and Hardly Free? **

_7,,=give;s7_

        I'm not sure exactly when I thought I lost the ability to feel, a consumption of bone and extinction of experience as time became a lost cause.  I merely went through the motions, each life flowing like water into a rippling pool of existential nihilism, and continued existence.

        Maybe it was the day we came to Snowdin.  It's funny, really.  I have vague memories of me and Paps stepping through the machine in my shop, but after so many times waking up in different spots after  _swearing_  I lived that moment before, it all started to become a lesson in transience:  
  
       _"uh, didn't you just ask me that?"  
  
        "No!  Of course not!  Are you alright?  You don't seem alright . . but not to worry dear brother!  The GREAT Papyrus is here to_— _"  
  
        "papyrus?  hey, did you just say something?"  
  
        "Yeah, i asked if you re-calibrated your_— _Sans!  Why are you laughing?  Are you alright?  You don't seem alright . . but not to worry dear brother!  The GREAT Papyrus is here to_ — _Hey, Sans.  Why do I get the feeling you never calibrated your puzzles?  Are you alright?  You're not smiling_ — _"_  
  
        I never knew when.  I never knew where.  And ever since the demon kid's remark about the man in the void reaching for knowledge and calling my name, I've been having seemingly random flashes of memory . . .  
  
        A human in the underground, discovered by the prince, Asriel, and adopted by the king and queen . .  I was still working along-side . . Dr. Gaster, at the time, and the human had this look in their eyes that was like two stars dying and determined to hold onto something, but I could never figure out what it was.  My focus was in my life's work, my purpose for existence, and the weight was heavy on a young monster's shoulders.  I didn't have  _time_  to care about anything else.  Which is funny, because now I have all the time in the world.  
  
        The kid's blowing snot rockets, back turned to me as I let out a long, unnecessary sigh.  Luckily, Frisk gets the memo and adjusts the hood of the jacket I lent 'em, and we start walking again.  
  
        "Where are we going, Sans?" the kid asks.  I don't have the heart to tell 'em that not even I know.  The truth is, I couldn't keep Papyrus from coming home, and I panicked.  Waterfall was the first place I thought of.  Although, I definitely wasn't planning on landing near the prince and human's memorial.  
  
        In order for one of my 'shortcuts' to work, I have to hone in on a specific spot, but I could've _sworn_ I was thinking closer to my sentry station . . which makes me wonder, if subconsciously, I was thinking back to the first human when it happened.  I have a hard time believing Frisk was ever completely naive or innocent, but I can definitely tell there's a certain tenderness in that soul, placing an umbrella over the statue . . it makes me wonder just how much the kid remembers.  
  
        "well, buddy, i figured we both could use some fresh air.  besides, i see the way you look at the water and those echo flowers.  i thought . . something like this might cheer you up?"  Frisk stops, and I stop too.  A part of me wonders if maybe humans are like us, able to feel each-other's emotions, but if that's the truth, I'd rather not know.  "well, is it working?"  
  
        Frisk hums, nodding their head.  It's forced.  I sigh, this time, not even meaning to.  I sit down on a rock, and Frisk plops down in front of me.  
  
        "heh.  you know, i have these dreams of us, on the surface."  
  
        I look up, make-shift stars, nature's gift glittering on the ceiling, and suddenly, I'm back on a hill with Frisk, outside the big city and into the country-side staring up at the most amazing sight I've ever seen.   _Actual stars.  
  
        _ "i never liked that lady you stayed with.  at least she let you see us after a while.  never understood following trends, but heck, she sure was a follower."  
  
        "Sans . . can I ask you something?"  
  
        I blink.  "sure kid.  what is it?"  
  
        Frisk takes a deep breath, and I look down at them, anxious.  "h-hey, if you're about to . . uh . . ask me something embarrassing, just remember . . y-your . . _dunkle_  here needs a heads up, alright?"  
  
        "No no!"  The kid howls in laughter, and I look down at 'em, happy, because without a doubt, it's proof there's a good thought between us.  "Why's Undyne crying?  Because she just got DUNKED on!"  
  
        I stand up and turn around, pretending to shoot a hoop while walking backwards.  "i ain't even lying―"  
  
        "No she just got dunked on!"  
  
        Frisk jumps up and strikes a pose as I cross my arms.  "yup yup, she was standin in the way―"  
  
        "So I JUMPED up in the air―"  
  
        "and i DUNKED it on her face!"  
  
        We high-five, finishing up that last part together as I spin on my heel and sit back down.  Frisk collapses dramatically, back to me as they nudge my tibia with their elbow.  
  
        "No . . no you _numskull_ . . nothing like  _that."_  
  
        I yawn, folding my arms behind my head.  "yeah, but she sure got us good for that, huh kiddo?"  
  
        Frisk shoves me, and I pretend like I'm going to fall over, but the kid panics and quickly grabs onto me, pulling me straight.  "Toriel said you're a bad influence, and that you should act your age.  Then she gave a mean look to Undyne, and made her do all those chores for a week."  
  
        "oh, _god,_ i forgot about that."  I laugh, covering my face with my hand.  "i kept teasing her about her community service, and paps was tori's kiss-a―i mean, kiss- _butt_ ―for the year, telling us that our pranks were not only childish, but that it was unfair to undyne that i used my magic to throw her in the hoop, even though _she_ made us into an internet meme through chasing us down the street with her spear.  but what can i say?"  I sigh deeply, staring up at the twinkling gems.  "we were famous."  
  
        Frisk goes quiet, and I start to feel like whatever it was they were going to say might've been important.  
  
        "okay, so not that.  now you got me curious.  what is it?"  
  
        Frisk looks like they're thinking hard about something . . and again, they feel like hell.  The sound of rushing water and the distant murmur of echo flowers fill the cavern with white noise melody, steady and constant, and Frisk nods to themself eerily in time with a flower that repeats:  
  
        "what is it?"  
            "what is it?"  
                "wha what is it?"  
                     "wha whas it?" _**"wha whsitit?"**_  
  
        It sends a chill down my spine―  
  
        _**"All I am to you is an 'it'.  Everyone calls us that, whether they say they love us or not.  It's always 'they' 'they' 'their'―"**_  
  
        ―and I'm thinking too much, as usual, but bad memories seem to have a knack for catching me when I least expect it.  Oh man, how great is this?  And it's not like I can even ask "are you a boy or girl?" without making the kid feel bad.  So I wait for them to talk instead, trying my best not to make my mood-swing obvious.  
  
        "Why do you have to be such a _bone_ -head?"  
  
        I cough.  Now _that's_  new.  "what? _―_ i mean, kinda made of, y'know _―_?"  
  
        "That trend we started, was amazing.  Humans and monsters, we were cool, right?"  
  
                                        "We were cool, right?"  
                     _ **"wha wrsit coweool, right?"**_ "what is _―_ "  
  
        Small moments of sanity in the most insane moments,  
  
                they become a lifeline you desperately hold onto when all else seems entirely hopeless.  
  
        Simple things, like this . . _repeat._  
  
        And isn't that amazing?  I'm shaking _―_ and when'd I start _―_ keeled over and patting their back, and it's so pathetic, _hilarious,_ laughter erupting from me like it's the best joke I ever heard, but it _can't_ be.  We're being _mocked_ by the flowers around us, and we can go back a thousand times, but what'd be the point when we can never _truly_ go back?  But Frisk wouldn't do that again, and we can still move forward, right?  
  
        The flowers laugh, gargled noise.  I see a flower watching . . but then it's gone, just like that, without a trace, the yellow weed is _**gone.** "Just in my head . . ."_  
  
        "so cool, buddy.  so cool . . ."  
  
        I hold onto these moments, _always,_ no matter how much I've given up in the past.  Moments like making dangerous traps with my brother, well . . 'puzzles', because a 'trap' is too 'unrefined' for monsters of our 'caliber', are some of my favorites to remember.  As Papyrus would always say, _"A puzzle requires skill, cunning, intellect, unlike a trap which is a distraction, at best, or cheating at it's very worse."_ We even got Frisk into it on the surface, and man did the kid make us proud.  We always pulled the best pranks, even when Paps swore that our japery was as unrefined as ever.  Like he said, it was lucky we had such a cool friend to help us.  
  
        And going through the same steps, events changed up a bit so that anyone trying to study the anomalous phenomenon would get timelines jumbled in their heads and forget which day of the week it was . . Nothing about that's funny, but even now . . I still wonder if it's all a joke.  
  
        Frisk draws their knees to their chest, hugging themself.  I catch a flicker of the other soul, no longer possessing Frisk and sitting in front of them.  They were looking at me, no, **through** me.  Which is funny, because I can see right through them but yet they're just another variable I can't seem to figure out in this whole mess.  
  
        I **don't** feel like moving.  I don't know if it's because I'm lazy, or tired, but I rest my hand to the crown of their hair, setting my mandible atop their tiny hands reached to cover my own.  
  
        "i'm sorry, kiddo."  
  
        "I know."  
  
        I stare blankly at the opposing wall.  Frisk is squeezing my hand a little, almost reassuring.  It scares me to think the kid might know what I'm thinking, because the heavens know I'm already becoming undone.  
  
        The idea of becoming transient like Gaster and the others, overwritten and destroyed along with everything I've ever held close to me,  _terrifies_  me, and being a former physicist, I've been over-analyzing things that never needed much thought, only heart, and the kid ISN'T the only problem here.  I owe it to everyone to finally  _stop._  
  
        I need to  _stop_  killing myself with my insecurities because I've been tying lifelines around my throat for far too long.  
  
        But that's easier said than done.  I'm supposed to be a role-model, y'know?  Feels like the most important things are never easy, and I'm constantly worried that no matter what, nothing will change.  
  
        Time and again, after realizing what I could lose, I got used to stoking my brother's ego, because I could feel how desperate he was for the attention.  He tried, always tried, always caring what others thought of him, but never enough to take off that armor I helped him make for that party because he thought it made him look so cool even when he was constantly made fun of.  I'd make a thousand crummy snow monsters with him, making mine look like a lump of nothing if only so his master-pieces could outshine mine every time.  Papyrus really  _is_  the coolest monster I know.  He's amazing, and whoever can't see that, is missing out.  
  
        So when the kid would go on one of their fits . . I'd try scaring them, showing up, leaning against a wall where monsters three times our size would be watching through holes, asking the little pipsqueak, "what's up?", chuckling as the kid reached the end of the hall only to see me standing there asking, "are you lost?"  And a part of me wonders if we had that same song and dance in the original timeline, because, after-all, humans are  **violent,** known to be _self-serving_ and _**dangerous.  
  
**_         I may have made that promise to Toriel, to keep the kid safe, even if I didn't know her name back then, but you can't exactly snap your fingers and expect years of fear to just vanish. _"do I even remember the original timeline with frisk?  did they kill us back then, too?"_ But yet . . after everything I've said and done . . do I even have the **_right_** to judge?  After-all, what was going through the kid's head―  
  
        "Sans . .  It's cold."  
  
        "here, do you have your jacket zipped?"  
  
        I look down, and yes, it's zipped.  I don't feel like moving.  
  
        "commere."  
  
        Frisk scoots back, and I gently wrap my arms around them, like they could break at any moment.  I worry about that sometimes, but I'll never admit it, not to Frisk or anyone, but with as many times as I wanted my kid to just give up and never come back, I always wanted us to be together, on the surface, as a family.  
  
        No one even remembers how me and Paps got here, and yet, no one really questions it.  This is something else I'll never tell 'em, the story of two monsters who just appropriated themselves into everyone's lives and after a while, were just accepted.  Like we're their guard against . . against what?  Humans?  When there's members of the royal guard already living in Snowdin?    
  
        It's laughable, because with as lazy and nihilistic as I am, I might've made friends, but I hardly cared, even when I _really_ liked them.  It's never enough to be happy, knowing it could be taken away at any second.  And it's almost like we were erased when we left our timeline, the others forgetting us more and more like Gaster and my colleagues, but yet, it's not like we were social before then, and it's almost scary to think of how everyone could go on as if we never existed.   _"new chance, new life,"_ is what I told Papyrus, and he was eager, already much older, but eventually, he too forgot about how we got here, my love of science became a love of science fiction, and it became my job to guard him because he was older, but still had the mentality of a child.  
  
        Sometimes, it's like I'm crazy.  Sometimes, it feels like it'll never end, and my skull's gonna burst with the over-load of bad memories and trauma.  
  
        Oh, back in the day, life moved forward as usual, rewound, rewritten, like the underground was a rotary, and the flower was the axis, and by the time the six humans fell . . so innocent, so scared, some with dust already on their hands and easier to kill . . it seemed like a miracle that time even progressed that far.  But that's a story I'll never tell Frisk.   _I won't._  
  
        I remember, age fourteen, the kid had asked for help on their homework.  I remember, _fourteen,_ because it was their birthday last week, and that shindig included the best of hot-dogs, courtesy of me, and there was cake, basketball, and all our friends.  Frisk was so happy, and I was happy.  They asked, chewing on their pencil, _"Do you think Asgore really would have absorbed the human souls to become a God?"_  
  
        I froze, because that was so out of the blue.  Frisk already knew that the king, with all his talk of waging war on humanity, that one of his own kids was human . . and that no one wanted to call him out on the fact that years kept passing between each fallen child.  All he needed was  _one_  soul to cross the barrier, and then he could take six more and set us free.  But we all knew what it meant to take a soul, and even though only a small number of us had ever killed, not one monster in the underground would wish that burden on a grieving father.  It was something we rarely talked about after reaching the surface, but Frisk had a full understanding of all that, except whether Asgore really would have . .  
  
        _"no kid.  he said that lie to give us hope.  he said what he thought we wanted to hear, for our sake."_  
  
        Frisk stared at their paper, calculus equations abandoned as they thought about what I said.  
  
        _"I hope you're wrong."  
  
_         And really, I couldn't think of what to say to that. _  
  
        "It's so much nicer when everyone's together.  Besides, monsters should've never been forced down there in the first place."_  
  
        Six kids **died,** and were _**never**_ coming back, and would Frisk have been happy becoming our seventh?  Just so we could be free?  Because we didn't _deserve_ our imprisonment?  
  
        Guilt tore me apart, a hate for myself and everyone else for not doing enough, and Frisk just went on doing their homework _―_  
  
      _"Um, can you help me with this one?"  
  
        _ _―_ and I fucking smiled, like the _PATHETIC_  monster that I am.  
  
        And why in the _HELL_ did it always have to be a  _child_  who fell?  Would it have been _easier_ if it were an adult _―_? _he, she, they, not that it even matters._ And if I'd cared just a little more back then, how different would everything be now?  Or would it be the same?  I don't even know, and the worse part that I can NEVER have the kid—my friend, the worse part I can NEVER let Frisk find out about me . . is another dirty thought I have to live with, because those innocent little souls are  _ **dead,**_  and I can't help but feel _relief_ that at least time won't regress before _Frisk's fucking fall_  . . and why did Frisk fall?  Why would Frisk climb the fucking mountain in the first place?  
  
        But relief, RELIEF, the ONLY feeling I can achieve when I KNOW something for sure, and the one thing I  _CAN_  predict, is just how far the kid's capable of hurling us back.  Based on probability and my observations, the kid's magic completely overwrites the flower's.  
  
        And it's fucked up, because I remember a time when I called Frisk—or was it the other human?—a freaking weirdo.  Covered in dust, sin covering the body of an innocent, and yet I  _never_  had any room to talk when my lecture on levels of violence and it becoming easier to distance yourself when you kill was from my OWN experience.  
  
        Someone's coming, and without a second thought, the kid gets tossed in the grass.  
  
        "Wow!  I dunno who you're hiding, but she must feel pretty shy!  Come on out!  You can check  all  you  want."  
  
        I hear Frisk groaning from my side, and I feel of wave of guilt.  I panicked.  I forgot all about the hood, and _"wow, i'm a jerk."  
  
_         I'm standing, looking nervously up at the . . _equus serpentes?_ —nope, weird guy coasting in with a grin and his chest sticking out as he flexes his muscles.  
  
        Yeah . .  So that's a thing.  
  
        "nah, my friend here's just―"  
  
        "No!  Shoo!"  
  
        I twitch.  My eyes shoot over to the blue stems where I threw Frisk, and I watch as the grass wriggles with the kid's movement.  
  
        I look back over towards the . . the uhh . . other guy, and I _know_ him from somewhere . .  There's only so many places in the underground, but even when my mail box gets filled with junk every day from people who say they know me, I'd be lying if I said I remembered every person I met.  
  
        "Wow.  I dunno dude, but isn't that unfair to your friend?"  The strange monster rears up a bit, looking back and forth between me and the grass.  "Hey!  Spunky!  You'll change your mind . ."  
  
        There's a flirty edge to his voice that makes me more than a little uncomfortable to have him near my kid.  He slithers up to the marsh grass.  Weirdo hippocampus is pushing aside the marsh grass, and I quickly shoot a wave of magic towards the opposite end of the cavern.  
  
        "What the heck was _that?!"_  
  
        He winks again, which is weird, because he's shaking like he's about to catch his death.  And that's when it hits me, and I shrug, grinning as wide as I can as he nervously looks back and forth between me and the spot he heard the crash.  
  
        "i dunno . . but . . uh . . not to _banish your spirit,_ but i've been noticing some spooky things lately."  
  
        Frisky's groaning again, no doubt sick of my bad jokes, and Aaron eye-balls the hiding spot and laughs nervously like he's trying to decide if he's curious enough to stick around―  
  
        "NO!  Shoo!  I'm hiding."  
  
        ―and the kid's _obviously_ not wanting to give me a break.  I laugh, and I'm a mess, and my friend Aaron stares down at me with his arms folded.  I _know_ that it'd do no good to freak out now.  I barely know the guy, but I know enough to _steer_ him away from asking too many unwanted questions.  
  
        "uh, kid?"  There's a small rustle to my side, and I chuckle at the thought of Frisk sitting to face me.  "i don't think you're supposed to announce that you're hiding.  kinda defeats the purpose, dontcha think?  but uh, you do you kid."  
  
        Aaron laughs and rubs the back of his head, lowering himself and coiling his tail.   _Shit._  Well, at least he's not suspicious.  He nods over towards Frisk and looks at me, clicking his tongue and humming, "Ah . . busy with, gotcha."  He winks again, and I feel a huge wave of relief wash over me.  "Whew!  This got weird!"  
  
        "Never surrender!  The second I give purpose an inch, it becomes my ruler!"  
  
        I start choking.  This kid, will be the death of me, and I'm speaking from experience.  But with as cute as all that was, I still can't help but think, _"i'm a sentry supposed to be on the watch for humans, and here's a human right here."_  I really need to steer the conversation in another direction because the joke's already half-way finished, and I'm sure if Aaron knows what a human looks like―   
  
        "kid, i don't think you realize how much you're _slaying_ me with all your _killer_ jokes.  you've _captured_ my attention for so long that uh . . i'll need to _pry your soul away_ so i can return you to your parents and start my shift up in hotland."  
  
        Aaron's looking around like he's expecting a ghost to pop out and scare him.  Too bad Napstablook's down in the dumps and probably not feeling up to it because I could really use a distraction.  "Uh, speaking of that, Undyne's been looking for you."  
  
        Frisk sneezes, _again,_ this being the umpteenth time since coming here.  Somewhere in the distance, a shout echoes through the cavern walls.  
  
        "WHAT DO YOU _MEAN_ YOU HAVEN'T SEEN HIM?  YOU JUST SAID YOU'VE DONE NOTHING BUT _STAND_ HERE ALL DAY, AND I JUST HAD _TWO_ PEOPLE SAY THE LAZY PUNK'S GONE _THIS_ WAY WITH SOME KID!"  
  
        Whelp.  We're about to get wrecked.  And apparently Woshua's not one for keeping secrets, not that he even recognized Frisk as human, but seriously?  And I can take a guess that the second monster was old man Gerson, and hadn't that been a bad time.  He KNOWS what a human looks like, but I thought I HID Frisk from him, because hell, taking a gamble on whether my hood covered enough of Frisk's face or whether our war hero remembered what a human smells like _definitely_ wasn't on my to-do list.  
  
        Well, apparently, if the fish lady's screams are anything to go by, things are about to get much worse.  
  
        Aaron recoils, and the sweat gleaming off his face couldn't be more obvious as he scuttles back.  "Okay.  I won't keep you.  Good luck!"  He gives one last wink and slithers away, and  THANK  the  stars . .  The second he's out of sight, I usher the kid out of hiding.  
      
        "come on.  i know a short cut."  
  
        And I don't have to ask twice as Frisk jumps out, quickly grabbing my hand.  But before I can even use my magic, the kid's taken with another fit of sneezes and coughs.  This time, it's wracking their small body and shaking them like a leaf in a hurricane, and _oh shit._  I've had the kid traveling through Waterfall for over a half hour.  
  
        Frisk has been wading through water, practically soaked up to their knees in some of the places we've passed, and hadn't the kid been sneezing before all this?  But I couldn't think of a good enough lie to keep Papyrus from coming home, and so I needed enough time to think about what I should do next _,_ and I wasn't thinking enough apparently because Frisk went from being in the snow, to a heated room, to taking a bath and then transported to Waterfall and not to mention that last trick takes a lot out of anyone, especially if they're not used to it.  It's even worse over long distances.  
  
        The sound of my boss's heavy metal armor clanging together and her boots stomping the ground is enough to make even Asgore tremble, and he's the king!  
  
        "SAAANNS!!  I'M COMING FOR YOU!!"  
  
        Frisk looks up at me, hood falling down and panicked eyes opened wide and glossed over with tears, and the next thing I know, I'm shooting the kid another smile and giving them a wink.  "so, river person?"  
  
        The kid quickly nods, and in a flash, we're standing in front of a small river and a cloaked figure sitting on their boat.  The mystery monster's startled by our sudden appearance, quickly moving to stand as I pull the hood back up and over Frisk's face.  
  
        "Oh!  A visitor?  Tra la la!  I am the riverman.  Or am I the riverwoman . .?  It doesn't really matter.  I love to ride in my boat.  Would you care to join me?"  
  
        I stare in disbelief as Frisk's eyes beam up, and the kid springs towards the boat like a rocket.  It's common knowledge that the river person's . . not exactly all there, in the head I mean, but that voice . . is it possible that two people are stuffed in that robe?  Because I've never heard a person speak in two voices before.  But this doesn't seem to bother Frisk any.  The kid just turns around and stares at me, eyes suddenly wrinkling as their cheeks dimple, and I look down at their outstretched hand―  
  
        "uhh . . not yet, kid."  
  
        The river person laughs, again, duel vocal sending a strange chill down my spine.  The kid's taken this trip before, so why does it suddenly feel like―  
  
        "Oh?  No?  So my angel, where would you like to go?"  
  
        Wait.  Angel?  Why would―  
  
        "S-Snowdin."  
  
        No.  No no . . even the kid's voice is hoarse, and damn, why hadn't I noticed it earlier?  Frisk is clasping their hand to their chest, looking down the river.  Another cough.  Another sneeze―  
  
        Frisk's voice, was it getting weaker the whole time I was drowning in my thoughts?  
  
        My kid looks like hell, puffy eyes and tanned skin paler than I'm used to, and I quickly shove my hands in my pockets, taking a step back.  "aw, missing me already?  geeze kid, i'm starting to think that you might like me or something."  
  
        Frisk laughs, and the river person's already pushing the boat out with their oar, and damn, this is a bad idea.  I'm setting my kid off with a stranger, but I remember the kid telling me about the boat rides and _nothing_ stuck out as unusual.  Except the crazy rantings, but even Paps isn't all there anymore, and that doesn't make him dangerous.  Ha, it's the opposite really.  He's too innocent to see the world for what it really is, but then, he never had a chance to grow up, and that's _my_ fault.  Frisk is too innocent to see life for what it really is, grabbing the back of a stranger's robe―  
  
        "frisk!"  
  
        They turn around, and wow, oh my God, even the demon kid called me out on it.  I don't even know if the kid's a boy or girl, and whoa, why am I thinking about that again?  
  
        "Sans!"  Frisk waves, and I'm at a loss at what to say.  "I can't wait to see you again!"  
  
        I feel like something's crushing my rib cage, and hell if it's guilt, then I need to lay off all the reminiscing before something snaps, but _does_ it hurt the kid's feelings that I can't tell their gender?  I mean I know they're not an 'it', and hell, even if they were, I'd still be here all the same, but even in broken memories of us on the surface, I think I knew?  But Frisk was always changing from _"I'm a girl"_ (reason:  _"I dunno, I wanna wear a dress?"_ ), to _"I'm a boy"_ (reason:  _"I wanted to wrestle, but they said that's a boy sport"_ ).  Hell, I even remember how Frisk would never answer anyone straight when asked, and so I guess that I might be over-thinking it.  Maybe.  
  
        I force a smile and fix it into place, because that's what I've been doing all these years to appear normal, to appear _sane._  I don't want to scare Frisk any more than I have to―  
          
        And oh my God, what is _WRONG_ with me?  
  
        "i'm _shore_ you'll be fine without me pal, but just in case, _shell_ i stop by in about . . ten minutes?"  
  
        The kid's gonna be fine, because this is better than bringing them to Grillby's just yet because I'd owe _him_ an explanation, and I can't keep avoiding Undyne, and the kid likes the water, or maybe the river person, and maybe― no, my hunch _was_ right.  Before all this, Frisk was waiting by the river in Snowdin for the boat to come.  Little baby-bones only wanted to see the river, and oh my God, I shouldn't be thinking like this, trying to justify my reasons for having a _lunatic_ watch my kid while I confront my boss.  
  
        "Um . ."  
  
        They're biting their lip, not even looking at me.  
  
        "Y'don't want . . to . . uh . ."  
  
        Frisk gives me the thumbs up and then turns it upside down as they stick out their tongue, forcing confidence in those eyes . . just like the first human, stars with their flames almost flickered from existence.  And that's when I catch a glimpse of the other child, changing from that of a red orb to a human and shaking their head in defeat as they try touching the water, but they're just a piece of magic left behind in a world no longer able to see their light.  
  
        Oh. my  _God._  
  
_"hey."  
  
        Silence.  The human doesn't look from their spot in the machine.  
  
        "i don't know why you do this, allow us to . . y'know . ."  
  
        "Kill me?"  
  
        "yeah, that.  i mean, i can see it hurts."  
  
        The kid laughs, and it's bitter, cold, and I suppress a shiver.  This is wrong, but it's in the name of science, of freedom . . we're getting out of here, and it's not like they didn't volunteer.  
  
        "so why do you―"  
  
        "Because I want to.  Because I can . .  Because . . the only love I've ever known has hurt me . . and kindness comes at a price, and if that price is this, then so be it."  
  
        If only the king and queen knew what we did, what they were allowing us to do over and over again without realizing what was being done . . but this was for hope, this was for mercy, and the kid smiled right before we shut the machine and their screams were_ _―_ _  
  
        **8,,d >k ,,d>k} ,,yet ,,d>k}4 ,,! ,,d>k;s ,,keeps ,,gr{+4 ,,! ,,%ad{s ,,cutt+ ,,deep}4 ,,photon ,,r1d+s ,,negative4 ,,? ,,next ,,exp}i;t ,,seems ,,v ,,v ,,9t}e/+4 ,,:at ,,d ,,y ,,two ,,?9k80**  
  
        Papyrus asked if we could go outside, but again I sent him to his room . . he started to talk more, act out more, hold onto me more . . because if he couldn't have my approval, he'd have my attention . . but I couldn't be bothered.  He'd be there holding me late at night after one of my nightmares, and I couldn't be bothered to tell him why I held onto him, crying._  
  
        "I'd call it a date, but you see, even though you have an EGGcellent sense of humor, Sans, even _I_ know you'll need more than ten minutes!"  
  
        I stare at the two.  I'm still smiling.  I'm still lying to myself and everyone if I think I can fix anything.  What the _hell_ happened?  
  
        Chara, the star of the underground.  Me and Alphys, before the accident with Gaster and the others.  Before me and Paps were almost lost to the nothing as I forced us to step through time . .  She had gone through the child's belongings shortly after their body was mummified . . and I remember feeling _wrong,_ because our bodies turn to dust, but that  _smile . ._  was forever, or at least, until nature took its course, but that's why what was done was done, so that wouldn't happen for a long time.  
  
  _"what is―"  
  
        "S-Sans, the h-human . . t-they . ."   
  
        Alphys didn't say anything else, just shoved a bunch of tapes in my hands and walked out the door.  
  
        I watched them.  All of them.  I didn't know what I felt.  Asriel and Chara planned this.  Chara killed themself.  That sickness, where the kid died slowly, Asgore crying over his kid's bed, telling Chara "You can't give up!  You must stay determined!", Asriel not wanting to talk to anyone . . stumbling into the palace transformed after he'd taken his sibling's soul, Chara's corpse hopelessly cradled among his remains that refused to let go . .  
  
        I walked out of the lab, Alphys stopped me, tears in her eyes.  
  
_          _Asriel was killed after taking their soul and stepping through the barrier, because they thought it was the only way to free us.  They went as one, but then the humans attacked, and the prince carried his sibling home where he collapsed into dust.  The memorial was made, the queen left the king right after his decree, and the king's promise for death to humanity was empty, just like Chara's coffin, but not like the queen's heart that still yearned for a child to love._ _  
  
        "Don't tell the king or queen."  
  
        She was dead serious.  I could feel our hearts beat as one, and I understood.  
_  
        That kid loved everyone, so much that they were willing to die over and over again, suffer unimaginable pain, just so we could have hope . . and yet . . here we are, and Chara is a part of all this?  
  
        Frisk and Chara, wow, it's like fate, two stars in a constellation, one dimmer than the other and extremely distant, and yet here they both are, appearing as one, dragging everyone into this fucking super-void.  
  
        "Um, stop, please?"  
  
        But Frisk is amazing too, forgiving, and . . _the **same** kid who is trying to act as if everything is fine, the **same b r a t** who fucking **stomped** on my brother's head . ._ and what am I doing?  
  
         _"oh god, oh kid, i'm so sorry i can't feel love without feeling violence, because i still remember your insides splattered across the walls and your body like a jiggsaw puzzle i gave up trying to put together, and i'm so sorry, i'm so_ ― _"_  
  
        "Sans, she's not really scary . .  She's just worried.  So please . . don't give up on her!  She's a good person."  
  
        And isn't that what I've been doing?  All this time, the three of us, we've given up more times than I can count, but Frisk and their little fallen star are just two broken souls trying their best to find a way to either fix the pain in their hearts, or destroy the pain all together.  
  
        _"but after everything, how do they expect to erase what they've done?  even when i can't remember every detail, the after-images of biting the dust, turning my head and walking away, trying to pacify the megalomaniacs and then looking in the mirror just to realize humans and monsters aren't so different if time after time I lose myself to indifference, to sadism, because with every difference between us, I'm beginning to see within my own soul what binds us.  We're determined to live or determined to die, and we each take care our own."_  
  
        "Sans?"  
  
        And after so many times . . I started telling Papyrus that the others were on vacation, and he'd get so teared up when they wouldn't come back, and Frisk . . was crying so hard when I told them the other kids wouldn't be coming back . .  
  
        "Um, 'cuse me?  Go back please."  
  
        I blink, and suddenly the world is coming back into focus.  I already promised myself, promised the kids I wouldn't be giving up again, and how long was I out?  
  
        "hey, thought you wanted to see the water?"  
  
        Frisk is hugging themself . . the river person lifting their hand and placing it on Frisk's head, stroking the kid's hair . . What the hell?  Frisk took off their hood.  It hits me.  For years, the prophecy—the river person called Frisk— _  
  
        "they KNOW."_  
  
        "Y-you . . don't need to worry Sans . .  I . . I won't hurt anyone.  I . . don't want to hurt anyone."  
  
        I sigh.  Kid, you're not hurting anyone, is what I want to say, but it's not true.  It's . . not wrong either, at least, not entirely, this time.  Frisk couldn't even understand what it normally means to die, and after all that resetting, how could _either_ of them know that death usually means forever when they have the power to turn back time and come back to life?  Or at least . . I'm still not sure how Chara fits into all this.  
  
        Another sneeze . . _gross . ._ but they're smiling.  And that's . . that's important.  
  
        "just, chill out on the self-pity kid, and i'll be right back.  that is, if ya wanna make it a real date and treat me to grillby's?"  
  
        "No fair!  I'll make sure to CRACK a bit into my busy schedule being a kid if you tell Grillby to put it on YOUR tab!"  
           
        I'm laughing, I'm crying, and this is too much . . like watching Papyrus after I came back from the lab one day standing a foot taller and thinking to myself, _'when'd this happen?  what else am I missing out on?'_  
  
        Frisk sneezes again, the other soul quickly leaping into the kid's body to turn them around as they wipe their nose.  I sigh.  It's as if Chara's embarrassed for some reason.  I have to admit, it's a little gross, but nothing I haven't seen before.  The perks to having no nose is never having a cold in my life, but it doesn't mean I haven't seen one of the other monsters with one.  Heck, there's a reason only cold resistant skeletons, a fire monster, and monsters with thick fur live near the ruins.  Although, I kinda wish the kid'd stop getting snot on my sleeve.  
  
        "Just tuna round after you're done untang-ling yourself from her!  I wanna show you all the pretty crystal stars, Sans!"  Another sneeze, and Frisk waves goodbye.  
  
        "hook line and sinker little buddy!  it's a no sweater, so no need to worry!"  
   
        The river person starts humming, pushing the boat back out as Frisk twirls around.  
  
        "Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you."  And the kid's singing, the river person still humming their tune.  I feel like irony.  I feel like _shit._  "Shall I stay?  Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you!"  And it's cute, listening to their small voice ringing through the cave, so innocent, _just a kid . ._ _like the others . ._ "Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be!  Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help falling in love with you."  
  
        What would Papyrus think of me, seeing me like this, a certain integrity abandoned on the shore as he stares down at me in disapproval?  I took this little kid to our basement to torture them, and I made the kid cry and bleed and . . the memory makes me wanna puke.  Wouldn't that be something, my reserves of magic poured out and dripping down my jaw?  
  
        I really  _have_  let myself go, and wasn't I so much happier back when the first human was in the lab, experiment after experiment, as we all dared to hope and dream of an alternative to murder in exchange for our freedom?  I didn't deal with people as much back then, except, of course, for my colleagues, and it was so much easier to focus on a single goal, and everything after the disaster and me and Papyrus stepping through the machine now seems like a big fat lie.  Like I'm the punchline for trying to be normal and giving my brother something other than the cold shoulder and a single bed-time story to look forward to.  
  
        I have to make up for all this, for all the times I thought I was stupid for secretly hoping me and the kid could be friends, for watching from the sidelines as friends turned to dust and settled in my bones, and for believing for a moment that we were beyond saving.  
  
        So I wave goodbye, Frisk blows me a kiss, and I appear in the spot we just were not ten minutes ago.  
  
        This won't be easy, but if there's anything I've learned from all this, is that the first step to forgiveness is always the hardest, and the longer we stay on this path, we're gonna fall, but we're gonna rise.  At least . . there's now three people in the world I can say I care about, and so playing spectator this time would be a crime.  
  
        "UGH!   _YOU!!"_  
  
        And every part of me wants to nope out of this and turn around, join the kid on the boat, and sail to Grillby's, but on a scale of one to ten, giving up's a negative twelve.  
  
        "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU SANS, I'M GONNA MAKE YOU _WISH_ YOU WERE BITING DUST!  BUT OH, NO, FOR WHAT YOU PUT ME AND PAPYRUS THROUGH, I'M. GOING. TO. MAKE SURE. YOU  _SUFFER!"_  
  
        But first, there's an angry fish lady that wants to pike me with her spear, and so I better take care of that and make sure I still have a job to go back to.  
  
        "uhh . . would you believe me if i told you i lost track of time?"  
  
        _"SAAANSS!!!"_  
  
        Ah, the things I do for forgiveness . .  
  
        "whelp, i'm _boned."_  
  
  


****/ : Monster Trivia  : P  
; D** **

********

 

       I really like the water.  It's blue sometimes.  The crystals shine against it and make pretty colors.  Very pretty. I also like the sounds the river makes.  Sometimes, I think the water is talking to me.  But then I wonder if it's judging me.

        _If I could fall asleep anywhere, I would like it to be in water._  
  
       The riverladyman stops humming.  Sometimes, the boat rides only take a couple of minutes.  It doesn't take long when they use magic.  I think the riverladyman remembers me, and never once, do they judge me.  Today, the ride is much longer, and the rocks are judging me from the shore, but the riverladyman is petting my hair.  It calms me, like the sound of rushing water.  I like this monster.  We never kill this friend, and we never will.  
  
       "Tri li li.  How are we?"

♥

       The ferryman turns its head to look at us, but the monster's face is obscured by their hood and the dimness of the cave.  I sigh, hopelessly letting the water rush through my fingertips.  It's not like I wanted to touch it anyway, but it's interesting to watch something go through me.  It's almost like a dream.  One I can never wake from.

♥

       Now, they're looking at you―?

♥

       I look up, and for a moment, I stare in disbelief.  The number of monsters that can now see me is starting to become a problem.  First, that smiling bag of trash, and now―

♥

       "Tra la la.  The water is very dry today."

♥

You lift your knuckles to your mouth, sneezing and shutting your eyes as a sudden splash from the waterfall hits you.  Letting out a whine and a cough, you latch onto the ferryman's sleeve.

♥

"Hmmm . . mayhaps . . you should wear a few million more pairs of pants?  Tra la la."

♥

  You smile.

♥

       I sing, "Tri li li!"  
  
       "Tre le le," the master of boats replies.  
  
       "Tra la la.  Tra li li.  Tra le le le le."  It's a concert, and we're the stars.

♥

The stars are dying, pulled into the nothing where we hear their cries.  Instead of gracing your duet with a response, I dip my entire arm through the water and stare at the passing scenery, bathed in iridescent lights from both the echo flowers and gems, hushed whispers and muddled conversation lost to time as the flowers mutter empty promises and wishes.  They are forever mocked by plant-life acting as soulless parrots, doomed to repeat the last things they heard until the end of time.

♥

       I tug on the sleeve of the riverladyman, and they hum.  "Yes, my angel?"  
  
       But I can't think of anything to say.  More than anything, I want to ask questions.  Like, why does Sans remember when the others don't?  Why can't I bring the other kids back to life?  How can I bring you and Asriel back to life?  
  
       The riverladyman is a good listener, and so very nice.  I remember being told once by Undyne, a long time ago back when we were friends, that the boat's like a taxi service.  Everyone likes using the boat to get to the other places of the underground.  But a taxi costs money, but they never charge me.  I also like how they always say something different.  Even when we do things the same, nothing they say matches the last time we met.  
  
       "A long time ago, tra la la, the crystals foretold me a boat!  It's a good boat.  It floats nicely on the water.  But not much for conversation.  Because it's a boat, sadly.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.”  
  
_("Well aren't you garbage . . You saved the life of this fool.  Isn't_ your _responsibility to go talk to them?  Or . . will you not spare even this poor monster a moment more than you have to?  Planning on leaving that to the flowers, are we?")_  
  
       Tears are stinging my eyes, and I quickly rub at them.  The flowers are more spaced apart this time, lonely conversations with themselves as they repeat the wishes of passerbys.  But still, the echoes hurt my ears, the larger flowers not even trying to stay quiet as we come upon the ones repeating the hopes and dreams of monster kids.  
  
       Coughing again, I make friends with the boat floor and shut my eyes.  There's a tickle in my throat.  I cough again and sneeze.  
  
       "Tra la la . ."  
  
       They're so sad, but I still can't think of what to say, so I watch the water and the crystals instead.  I wonder if Sans still thinks of these as stars, even though he knows what real stars look like.  
  
       I look at you, and I wonder if _you_ remember what the stars look like.  
  
       _"We never go together when the barrier breaks.  You and Flowey are always left behind."_  
  
       I wonder if that's painful.  I imagine it is.  
  
       _("It's painful when you're sad.")_  
  
       You're still trying to splash the water, but it refuses to touch you.  
  
       _("It hurts more when you're happy.")_  
  
       My back's against yours, and I can feel your soul touch mine.  At the same time, I feel stuck, like I'm trapped and I want to go home.   _"Is that selfish Chara?  Do you hate me?"_  
  
       _(". . Yes . . and no.")  
  
       _ "Were you careful not to look like trash?  Tra la la."  
  
       I look up, confused, trying to think back . . trying to remember why that sounds so familiar . . .  
  
       "Yes sir'ma'am!"  
  
       The river person laughs, leaning back and holding their chest.  "Oh, what a wonderful thing to say!  But a shame you went against my warning, dear child."  
  
       I giggle, even as the river person stares down at me.  
  
       "No matter!  Tra la la!  What did the angels find my dear?"  
  
       Suddenly, I'm back in Sans's workshop . . the pictures, the reason I was there . .  I quietly left and screamed as I slid down the wall, staring forward and saying nothing, crying and pleading but saying nothing.  
  
       I wake up, and I'm on a boat.  I look around, and I see you, and you're staring back at me.  I look up at our pretend stars, and you look away as they're staring back at me.  
  
       "Um, 'cuse me."  The riverladyman hums, looking down at me as I tug the bottom of their robe.  But even though I have their attention, I still don't know what to say.

♥

       The thought that you may never know what to say frightens you.  You shake like a puppy, sneezing and whimpering.  You're scaring me.  I shiver and check my tongue.  Somehow, it feels like you've stolen it, and it reminds me of when I watched my body on the table as my organs were taken out one by one.

♥

It hurts to breathe.  It hurts to think.  It hurts to watch you cry and I just can't―

       "Little star, little star, so very far away, you shine so bright my little star, so mind me not if I ask you to stay?"

       _"Their voice is carried like a prayer."_

       _("And for all it's worth, we're filled with a promise.")_

       "Little love, greater love, you burn like fire in my sky, so mind me not my little one if I ask you one last time?"

       I smile.  There's a pain in my chest, and I wonder how Sans is doing.  Undyne's probably yelling at him right now.

       "I am but a lonely soul, who drifts upon the rivers of a cold and icy dream.  So my little star, my lovely star, I ask that you share your light with me."

       _("But a promise of hope is still just a promise our hearts make, but mine died long ago.")_

       I remember back to one of the times I reached the surface, maybe the first time, not the second . . I can't remember which.  I helped Sans and Papyrus pack their stuff.  Sans was already in his room when me and Papyrus walked in, and Sans was sitting in the middle of the floor reading.

       Monsters were always a little weird, but I was always weird too, and so after a while, it was nice that we could get along.  There's this one spot in Waterfall where trash from the surface falls, and Sans was reading one of the books he found.  I remember him saying that he never understood why humans would throw books away, but he guessed that maybe we discovered something more interesting and didn't need them anymore.  I tried telling him that people just get bored sometimes, reading or watching something over and over.  Sans laughed, and asked,  _"but isn't that what a library's for?  i'm sorry, but i still don't get why this is garbage.  not that i'm not grateful for it.  i mean, over half of what we got now is because of human trash.  it's just, there's nothing wrong with this book, so why not give it to someone else?"_

I remember back then, he was happy, finally being free, but at the same time . . scared, not knowing what lied beyond the safety of the world he was used to.  I remember feeling the same, never really fitting in before I fell, and scared to face the world that never seemed to want me.

       One of the times I met Undyne, when I was running away, I kept passing by Sans's sentry station.  He was pretending to sleep, and I was laughing going back and forth.  Every time we did this, she would yell at him to get up and help her, but he'd just smile . .  I hope she goes easy on him, but I know she'll be happy to see he's okay.  I really miss her, especially how she played piano and her bad cooking lessons.

       All these good memories are like a painting now, water colors running off the page and barely leaving a picture to look at.  I just want it to last, but in truth, I'm a terrible artist.  I just _act_  like the best because I feel like I want to  _be_  the best.  Papyrus always believed in me, and he always believed in himself.  He is always so sad when I first meet him, wanting friends, wanting fame, but he's always so cool, never letting anyone hurt his feelings and being nice.  Even when I did bad things and he didn't remember me, he knew I could do better.

       Rocks crash into the water and splash us with cold.  I think back to the time on the surface where Sans gave me his coat while we were star gazing.  I always loved how even without saying anything, he always seemed to know how I was feeling.  I was so cold, but really . . I was sad more than anything.  My heart felt heavy.  My soul felt crushed.  He always knew the right joke to make me smile, helped me with my homework, took me places and told me I could be anything I wanted.  I just want to be a good person, but I didn't say that out loud.

       He looked at me.  We were laying on the grass, and he smiled.

       " _no matter what kid, our hearts beat as one, you feel me?_ _whenever you're hurting inside, i can feel it, and i won't ever let you down."_

       I was afraid he might have heard what I was thinking, even though I don't think monsters can hear thoughts, but if it's true and he can . . I hope he knows I'm trying.

 

 

_(Turn Back)_

[(Testing . .)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7364530/chapters/23142195)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am now actively adding the chapters to this site. It's already finished on Deviantart. It's just that the formatting issues that I face on this site kind of make it annoying to upload this particular story. I've come up with a different way to express wingdings, but it's 1 in the morning my time. So to make up for lost time, I will for now on upload 1 to 2 chapters a day until finished. Also, if certain paragraphs are too far spaced apart, please excuse me, but I'm having issues with keeping them the correctly formatted. Lol It'd have been easier if I wasn't so obsessed with indenting my paragraphs, but well, I'm still convinced it looks cleaner this way.


	5. Beginning Of..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (WHAT IS THIS?)
> 
> (CAN YOU SEE ME?)
> 
> (HOW VERY, VERY INTERESTING . . )

 *♥*  
_(Testing_ ** _t͎̹̬e̷̜̩͍̺s̺t͞įn̵͖͙̗͖g TESTING_** ** _te̙̫͘st̟̪͕i̱͉n̡̩g̥̗̤͢_** _testing . . .)_

 

  
_  
_         I grab my chest.  Suddenly, it feels like it's on FIRE.

        _"Why does it hurt?!  It HURTS!"_  
  
        "That's IT!"  
  
        My legs fall out from under me, and I can't stand.  
  
       "That bag of bones can HAVE your heart!"  
  
        My legs feel like bricks, and I struggle to get up, dizzy as the colors around me start to swirl.  I try to step back, but I trip and almost fall out of the boat, but the riverperson grabs my hand and pulls me in.

♥

        I laugh, and I laugh some more . .  
  
"You  F U C K I N G   _IDIOT!"_

♥

        "Hey!  Tra la la . . ."

 

_(T̰̫͈he̺̬̭̰y̠̲͎͉'̝̫re͖̼ͅ t͕̥̼͓̜̻oo̬̙͇̻̩̺̟ ͚̫̖̫̮ͅc̞͎̼͈l̞̭͙̥̺̘o̲̯̦̬s͔̘͇͓͚̱̘e̻ͅ_    ** _G̸̡̢̨̜̻̻͈͍̣̜ e̸͜͝͏҉͎̮͍ t͜͠͏̦̩̪̙̯̟͔̮̘͎͚͙̦͍̣ t͍̬̹͇̩̳̦̫̙̯͜͜͞ i̡̧͟҉̗͍̗̙̜ n͡͏̷̟͔̲̳̪̗̦̬̱̭̮̞͘͝ g̴̯̜̮̖͔̣̭̬̼̞͙̰͎͔͘ ͉̤̺̻̬̟͈̙̞̤̞͖̠̖̪͝ͅ c̢̢̻̠̯̥̞̝̭̕͞͡  l̨̫͚̯͎̪͈̞͔̹̗̞͎͞ͅ  o ̮̜̭͓͔͟.̛͡͏͚̘̟̩̙̟̭͈̙͙s ̛̻̫̤̜̝͈̥̜̩̥̤̦̰̬̭̕͝.͜͜͝͏̷̰̦̲̘̤͚͙e_** **_―ha ha)_ **

  
        Everything around me is being swallowed by darkness, and I can see the man who speaks in hands standing there, reaching―  
  
        "Your heart is a precious gem, dear angel.  So treasure it!"

♥

        There is blood leaking from my mouth as the world around us is black, black, darker yet darker―

♥

        "Did ye treasure it?"  
  
        and I cry as I reach out to him.

                                                                _7,,:at ,,is ,,?87_

        "Stop!  Wait!  You'll get left behind―!"

                                                                _7,,c ,,y ,,see ,,me87_

 

**_(Somewhere, your friends are_ ** _**s̖͕̖̘c͎̳̩̞̠̲r͈̰̣͈̣̠e̮̤͟am͉̝͎̠̝̪̱i̛̻̗ņ̗͓̼g̦̳̟** _ **_in pain!  
Tra la la . . _ ** **_a͔̘̭̺̮̯nd̠͢ ̤̺̮͖̖̘i̖̖̖̣͔͎̟͟t̛̯̻̦̟̗'̣̙̥͝s̰̤̬̜͔̝̦͠_ ** **_YOUR fault!)_ **

**_  
_**         I turn around, and the riverperson is grabbing me.  
_  
_ "Stop IGNORING me!  FRISK!!"  
  
"Please, stop―!"  
  
  "DON'T HIT ME!!"  
  
        And I fall over, and cover my head.  
  
"No no no . . please stop  _STOP IT!!!"_  
  
        "Please, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry . . I didn't mean it . .  I didn't mean―!"  
  
        I can't think of what to say.  The dark place is getting closer, and it FEELS like we're being pulled in.  We're being pulled in.  And we'll be―  
  
        Something cold wraps around me, but when I open my eyes―  
  
        "Shh-shhh . . hushaby . . shhh . . ."  
  
        ―I sneeze, and I wipe my nose one more time as I grab onto them.  
  
        The riverperson never judges.  This is safety.  The riverperson is my angel.

♥

The darkness slowly starts to fade―"You cannot give up just yet . . ."―and my heart leaps out of my chest as I turn around.  
  
        "D-Dad?"  
  
        But memories are like a self-possessing force.  It's yet another thing I can't control, but yet somehow, am responsible for anyway.

♥

        Dying _really_ hurts . . but as the darkness gives way to the small light of crystals, I feel . . .  
  
        I was so sure I was about to go to the dark place, but I'm here.  We're right here.  I still remember how I would end up there after dying, or sometimes for no reason at all after fighting someone.  My phone would ring after a while . . and if the darkness were kind, I would sometimes hear Sans's voice when I answered his call, instead of just finding a voice-mail before the long silence became our home.  
  
        Home . . .  I'm gonna fix it.  I take a deep breath, and squeeze my fist.  Everything is going to be okay.  Again, I breathe in, deep.  It was in darkness I found you.  I could never go back without killing myself first, and you would always follow.  So now, it's almost funny, because in this darkness, is where I made my promise to save you, where I need to . . .  
  
        I still have to save myself though . . .  
  
        But I will, and so I wipe away my tears, slowly, putting on a smile and holding out my hand for you, because I NEED you to be my friend again.  I can't keep doing this alone, and so I NEED to get it right this time, so we can be happy, and so no one can be hurt anymore.  That's what a real family would do, right?  
  
        ( _"What the HELL do you want from me?")_  
  
        "You, Chara . . ." I whisper, and your eyes become big.  
  
        "What the FUCK are you playing at, Frisk?"  
  
        "Chara . . ." I call again, this time, moving my hand a little.  
  
        Tears fall down your face, and you growl.  
  
        "I don't get it!  LOOK AT ME!"  
  
        But I don't move, because out of everything I've gone through, you are the one who needs understanding the most.  
  
        "You're just wasting your time, OUR time―"  
  
        "Come on Chara!  Stop making me wait!"

♥

And so . . I step forth.  
  
_"Come on Chara!  Let's go out and play!"_  
  
        It's so automatic, like I barely even have a mind of my own anymore.  As I touch your hand, I close my eyes, imagining for a moment that I'm grabbing _his . . .  
  
        _ "What _-ever._   You've made your choice, haven't you . .  You're really _not_ going to stop until you're satisfied . . ."

♥

I hold out my hand for the riverperson, and slowly, to my relief, a dark hand rises to meet my own.  I grab both of your hands and lock them together.  
  
"Chara, sir'ma'am . . thank you.  So much."

♥

  I'm shaking.  
  
_"Chara, I don't like this plan anymore . ."_  
  
        I don't understand what you're trying to do, being so nice to someone like me.  I don't deserve your kindness, or your pity.  The darkness is closing in again, and any minute now, I'll be **gone.**

♥

        I bring your hands to my chest, the memories of all my friends, everything that I'm fighting for, filling me with love (the best kind).  Your eyes are still empty, and the riverperson's hand is cold, just like your own, but there is something inside my soul that's warm, enough for me to share it with everyone, and so even though I'm scared of what tomorrow will bring, I _want_ a happy ending.  
  
        "I'll treasure it sir'ma'am.  I'm sorry for making you worry."  
  
        I WANT us all to be happy.  
  
        "But you HAVE to promise me something."  
  
        The riverperson kneels down, moving my hair from my face, but even though we're so close, I still can't tell what lies behind that hood.  But you can't force a friend from hiding, and so I close my eyes, pulling the cloth away.  I can feel the riverperson become still, like a statue, and I slowly wrap my arms around them.  
  
        "Anything . . _my child . . ."_

♥

        Loneliness starts to well in my chest and the pit of my stomach, and before I can even stop myself, I'm stepping into your body, just like a demon, just like a nobody intruding in on something sacred, something special . . There is nothing left for me in this world.  How we can be so close, and yet so far, I wonder.  But it feels nice.  It feels like  _home._  
  
        I step outside, back turned to yours as my whole body shakes.  I didn't WANT this to happen . .   _None_ of this was supposed to happen.  This needs to end, but yet . . I don't WANT this to end . . .  
  
        Suddenly, I feel something light against my cheek.  I slowly turn, closing my eyes.  I can't bare to look.  I reach out my hand . . only to feel that the ferryman's touching your face, and so I move my hand to touch my cheek.  The ferryman's doing all they can to touch me too, and it shouldn't be possible, but they're keeping their hand still, so that it won't go through me.

♥

        "Chara and me are one now.  So if you'd please make a wish upon us, I'll make you a promise that we'll be the hope everyone has dreamed of."

        The riverperson never judges.  This is safety.  The riverperson is my angel.

♥

        For just a moment, your smile and your hope, bring me back to this world.

♥

I lift the hood back over the riverperson's face, opening my eyes.  Another sneeze sends a chill up my back, and very gently, the riverperson lifts the hood from Sans's jacket up and over my head.  
  
        "Thank you."  
  
        There's less flowers as we move forward, and the echoes are fading fast.  Another cold chill brushes against me as we come closer to Snowdin, and I hold onto the bottom of the riverperson's sleeve.  They look down, and I give them an award-winning smile.  After-all, I'm their star, and so I want to shine as bright as one.  They chuckle.  
  
        "Aye, little one.  The path to redemption is but a road ye must make yer own."  
  
        I nod, understanding how a promise this big deserves every bit of determination I have.    
  
        "I made a promise to Sans that I'll never hurt my friends again.  I want to be the best that I can be, so facing the truth that not everything can be perfect and not giving up just means, that for once, I'll be growing up."  
  
        _"That skeleton . ._  T-tra la la!  'Tis true, little one, but always keep yer friends in mind, and ye will find, that ye are never alone!"

♥

_And in this moment, I feel happy we are one.  There's nothing wrong with that, right?  For just this one time, before it all ends.  I can pretend, pretend you actually care.  I'm getting too tired to fight you anyways._

♥

        For a lifetime of happiness even when hope seems just out of reach, I say a silent prayer, and open my eyes to the same beautiful world.  The thought of saving the world, it FILLS me with determination.

 

**_7,,h{ ,,v1 ,,v ,,9t}e/+ `4 `4 `7_ **

 

_ **(Now . .)** _   
[(Face Forward)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7364530/chapters/23142480)

 

_(Have you ever thought about a world_  
_where everything is exactly the same,_  
_except you don't_ _~~exist?)~~ _

**(Please . . forget about all this)**


	6. Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whelp. Someone took a wrong turn at Albuquerque.
> 
> : D

This should be impossible.  
  
 _7,,yet ,,"h ,,we ,, >e `4 `4 `7_  
  
But,  
here we are.  
  
           Or are we?  
  
They're too close.          
  
.  
.  
.  
.  
  
  
 _7,,alw ,,s ,,close1 ,,yet ,,j ,,| ,,( ,,r1* `4 `4 `7_  
  
  
Oh.  
I see.  
  
  
 _7,,:at ,,7 ,,y ,,expect+87_  
  
_7,i ,,wond} `4 `4 `7_  
  
  
 _But we're here._                                     
  
                                    Oh.  They're moved so far away!  
  
  
 _7,,an ,,illusive ,,play ,,t ,,plagues ,,|r ,,m9ds7_  
  
_7,,= ,,z ,,soon ,,z ,,we ,,get ,,"!1 ,,x ,,%ifts ,,away `4 `4 `7_  
  
.  
.  
.  
.  
  
7,,if ,,"ey"o ,,crosses ,,at ;,c1 ,,!n ,,we ,,>e ,,cross+ ,,9dep5d5tly ,,yet ,,2s ,,"o ,,ano!r1 ,,=c$ ,,6,,/ay ,,9 ,,lock/ep ,,2c ,,we ,,m/ ,,bo? ,,cross ,,at ,,exactly ,c47   
  
7,,b ,,yet1 ,,f ,,! ,,p}sepctive ,,( ,,: ,,obs}v}8 ,,= ,,an ,,obs}v} ,,at ,,9f9;y ,,does ,,n ,,m1sure ,,! ,,fall+ ,,object ,,cross ,,at ,c47   
  
7,,9de$1 ,,my ,,de> ,,boy1 ,,? ,,is ,,v ,,9t}e/+ `4 `4 ,,at ,,! ,,ev5t ,,horizon1 ,,y ,,m1sure ,,! ,,veloc;y ,,6,,be ,,z}o7  
  
  
Darker and darker,                                      
 ** _we'll see them soon._  
  
** 7,,! ,,op}ator ,,( ,,! ,,void1 ,,wipes ,,| ,,"ey?+1 ,,except ,,xf7   
  
7,i ,,_c ,,br1!1 ,,b ,i ,,want ,,air4   
,i ,,am ,,n ,,alive1 ,,b ,,"h1 ,i ,,gr{4   
,i ,,r1* ,,& ,i ,,r1*1 ,,b ,i ,,c ,,n"e ,,t|* `4 `4   
,,:at ,,am ,i87   
  
7,,use ,,x ,,"h1 ,,& ,,no?+ ,,*anges4   
,,use ,,x ,,"!1 ,,& ,,wipe ,,| ,,e ,,bit ,,( ,,life ,,xf7   
  
7,,use ,,! ,,* ,,": ,,%e ,,%d ,,n ,,2 ,,us$1   
,,& ,,!y ,,% ,,2 ,,! ,,5d ,,( ,,"ey?+7   
  
7,,|r ,,obs}v,ns ,,run ,,p>allel1 ,,|r ,,exi/;e ,,is ,,non-,,exi/5t ,,6,a ,,_w ,,t ,,=gets ,,|r ,,"ns `4 `4 `7   
  
7,,9de$1 ,,~? ,,)9 ,,my ,,grasp ,,>e ,,too ,,close ,,6,,! ,,void ,,t ,,?r1t5s ,,6,,swall{ ,,"ey?+4 `7   
  
7,,"ey": ,,& ,,no ,,":1 ,i ,,3t9ue ,,6,,wat* ,,& ,,wait `4 `4 `7

 

**__  
  
[(Turn Back)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7364530/chapters/23142195)   
** (This Should Be Impossible)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (YET HERE WE ARE . . )
> 
> (ALWAYS SO CLOSE, YET JUST OUT OF REACH . . )
> 
> (WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING?)
> 
> (I WONDER . . )
> 
> (AN ILLUSIVE PLAY THAT PLAGUES OUR MINDS)
> 
> (FOR AS SOON AS WE GET THERE, IT SHIFTS AWAY . . )
> 
>  
> 
> (IF EVERYONE CROSSES AT C, THEN WE ARE CROSSING INDEPENDENTLY YET BESIDE ONE ANOTHER, FORCED TO STAY IN LOCKSTEP BECAUSE WE MUST BOTH CROSS AT EXACTLY C.)
> 
> (BUT YET, FROM THE PERSEPCTIVE OF WHICH OBSERVER? FOR AN OBSERVER AT INFINITY DOES NOT MEASURE THE FALLING OBJECT CROSS AT C.)
> 
> (INDEED, MY DEAR BOY, THIS IS VERY INTERESTING . . AT THE EVENT HORIZON, YOU MEASURE THE VELOCITY TO BE ZERO)
> 
>  
> 
> (THE OPERATOR OF THE VOID, WIPES OUT EVERYTHING, EXCEPT ITSELF)
> 
> (I CANNOT BREATHE, BUT I WANT AIR.  
> I AM NOT ALIVE, BUT HERE, I GROW.  
> I REACH AND I REACH, BUT I CAN NEVER TOUCH . .  
> WHAT AM I?)
> 
> (USE IT HERE, AND NOTHING CHANGES.  
> USE IT THERE, AND WIPE OUT EVERY BIT OF LIFE ITSELF)
> 
> (USE THE CHILD WHERE SHE SHOULD NOT BE USED,   
> AND THEY SHALL BE THE END OF EVERYTHING)
> 
> (OUR OBSERVATIONS RUN PARALLEL, OUR EXISTENCE IS NON-EXISTENT TO A WORLD THAT FORGETS OUR NAMES . . )
> 
> (INDEED, THOSE WITHIN MY GRASP ARE TOO CLOSE TO THE VOID THAT THREATENS TO SWALLOW EVERYTHING. )
> 
> (EVERYWHERE AND NO WHERE, I CONTINUE TO WATCH AND WAIT . . )


	7. )fO gninnigeB( sniameR tahT llA oS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whelp. Something f*cked up.

_8,,s ,,all ,,t ,,rema9s0_  
_,,writt53 ,,redact$_  
_,,"*s3 ,,redact$_  
_,,"utale ~c ,,annoy+ ,,dog_  
  
  
_**(This should not be possible . . .)**_  
  
  


 

       There's a lot to be said about Undyne, so many words I could string together to describe the royal guardswoman, but never in a million timelines would I have thought to call her 'patient'.  It's nerve wracking, the way her visible eye bears into me, cracking me apart and staring right into my soul.

       I went quiet after a couple of minutes, just to hear her talk.  Her whole demeanor started to change the second I told her to stop . .

       I snapped, internally, after getting in about five words during her whole speech about how lousy of a brother I am and how Papyrus is always left to pick up the pieces.

  
7,,"s?+ ,,lo/ ,,equals ,,"s?+ ,,ga9$7  
  
7,,subtract1 ,,add `4 `4 `7

 

       She can't be right.

      _"breathe."_

       All the times I spent encouraging him, trying my best after the fuck up of a lifetime . . we were  _meant_ to be past all this.  I was _sure_  we were past all this.

       " _because we are."_

       It's still too quiet, the flowers repeating a jumbled mash-up of her, "You're such a loser!" and my pathetic attempt at standing up for myself.  But it's okay.  It's okay because I just have to deal with this, and I can deal with everything else later.

       Her right eye shuts as she rubs in between that and her left eye-patch.  She's been holding her helmet for some time now, having ripped it off the second she saw me.

       "Sans.  Listen."

       And I don't  _want_  to.  I've been listening so much lately that the pressure on my skull has nearly tripled, and it  _hurts,_  and it's getting harder to pretend.

      _"but I don't **have to,** because i'm **fine."**_

       "HEY!"

       I look up, slowly.  I grin, even wider.  I just have to deal with this, then I can get back to my kid.  Then Papyrus, I'll deal with him later.  He's like a puppy anyway.  I'll just throw him a quick bone, and then we'll be back to how things were in no time.

 

     _(Everything is being swallowed by darkness . .)_  
     _ **(He is standing there, reaching―)**_

  

       "You're hiding something from me, and I think know what it is." 

       Suddenly, all the pressure from before comes crashing down on me tenfold, and meanwhile, I'm snapping my focus back on her.

       " _this isn't happening."_

But somehow, today of all days is the universe's way of turning my EVERY preconception of how the world works upside down.  Papyrus, somehow he _knew_ about Frisk, even though Frisk was  _careful_  not to cross our paths this time around, which only worked half-way, but this is different.  This isn't Papyrus.  He _told_  her.  He fucking  _told_ her in this run without even confronting me _or_ Frisk.

        _"come on!  get a hold of yourself!  there **has** to be a reason."_

       "Sans.  Listen.  Your brother is more than a little weird, but you?  You're a whole new level of creep.  Especially the way your eyes go blank like that, and your smile . . ."  
  
 ****

**_(. . eht dna ,dnuora nrut I)_ **

_(Who?  Who is this?)_      

       She looks away, and I start to think back . . forward?― _definitely forward_ ―to the different times we were on the surface.  It was us, walking down the street, Papyrus and me in ridiculous clothes exploring new shops, his enthusiasm almost as contagious as it was annoying, some stared, some whispered, others begging for a picture or two . . end of the world picket signs, a worthless freak with a knife telling Papyrus to hand him his phone, no eye contact, no friendly smiles except from those trying to make a name, stepping out of our way, some curious about our anatomy and magic and whether we would kill their children in their sleep.  Ha.  So  _human,_ so  _typical._

  
_**7** _ **_,,we ,,h ,,be5 ,,wait+ ,a ,,l;g ,,"t ,,= ,,? ,,sans `4 `4 `7_  **

 

       "Okay!"  Undyne throws her helmet, and it smashes against the wall and clambers to the floor with a loud _CLANK_ _―_ "You're REALLY starting to piss me off!"

 

       "i-i'm . . sorry?"  I'm shaking, and DAMNIT, when did I start that up?

        _"come on, sans, breathe.   ha . . breathe."_

       She's fuming, and oh damn, if I don't get my act together, I'll lose my job and then how will I pay the rent?  I just need to   _c a l m  down._

       "the truth is―"

       _"i can do this.  i can be normal."_

       "like i said earlier, hotland's puzzle systems were all locked up, eh, so forgeddabout me goin there."

        _"i can lie.  it's for the kids.  it's for papyrus."_

       "all the kids, skippin school left and right, and as i was walkin, there was this―"

       "Oh man!  So the _kids_ are skipping school now?  That's hilarious!  But _wait._  Why are YOU not working?"

       And already, I'm two feet in the grave.

       "uh, finished my shift in snowdin?  couldn't get to hotland―"

       "Cut the shit."  She crosses her arms, and she bares her fangs at me.  "Wanna try again?  And DON'T say you're  _bone_ -tired― OH. MY.  _GOD._   SANS!  YOU'VE GOT  _ME_  DOING IT NOW!"

       "uh, sorry?"

       "Wrong answer.  Give up?"

       A moment of silence rolls between us, and what am I supposed to say?  What does she _want_ me to say?  Admit that I'm terrible?  Admit that I'm―but I'm _trying,_ I'm _going_ to make a difference this time and there's . . nothing but the echos and the waterfall to fill in the quiet.

       Frantically, Undyne starts rubbing at her arm, although I can hardly imagine it's any comfort since she's just rubbing on steel plating.  She takes her boot and stomps on a flower.

       "Shut UP!  I will DESTROY YOU!"

       She summons one of her spears and hurls it towards a nearby patch, and upon impact, the spear shatters and incinerates all of the remaining flowers.  There's blue flames scattering to and fro, flickering from existence almost as soon as they came.  It's easy to tell how something's been eating at her, but then again . . she's been Papyrus's only friend for how long?―and I practically  _left_  him in her care after my disappearing act.  I'm not only a bad brother, but a bad _friend_ as well.

       "hey, you alright?"

       "Am I alright . . Oh!  I'm fantastic!  But seriously . . . sometimes?"  She fixes me with a glare.  She's always so determined, the most head-strong person I've ever known, but that look in her eye―"I _really_ hate this place."―her _soul_ is crying in defeat.

       I mean, it's not like she hasn't been alone with him before, and hell, even before she stopped spending the night at our house when passing through Snowdin, she was making it a regular thing anyway, but I didn't just leave her any Papyrus, but a Papyrus who's probably out of his mind worried about me, and I left Undyne, an emotional train wreck to pick up the pieces.  I'm not only a bad brother and a bad friend, but even now, I can hardly bring myself to be the _brother_ or the  _friend_  they both need.

       "hey, why don't we go sit at my station?"  Undyne looks up, and she's doing that thing again . . looking at me like I'm up to something.  Well, I kinda am, but that look on her face . . I can't exactly double back now, job or no job.  Besides, I really _am_ trying.  "there's less flowers there, and i'm sure alphys would like it if maybe you showed the wildlife some mercy?"

       Undyne grunts, but her cheeks are flushed as she palms the back of her hair.  "Actually, that's a good idea because me and Papyrus were supposed to rendezvous there in about ten minutes anyway."  She smirks, and shakes her head as she moves her bangs out of her eyes.  "You know how he gets, and I don't have my phone anymore, so . . ."

       I stare, not exactly knowing what to say.  It's only when she starts to move that I quickly snap out of my daze and step in line beside her.

       "so―"

       A twig snaps, and a pair of muscular brown arms stretch out . . not _this_ again.

       Wait.   _This_ again.

       Aaron comes flexing in, and the second he catches wind of Undyne, he tries to slither away.

       "hey, aaron, you'll vouch for me, right?"

       "Hey!  It's muscle dude!"

       Aaron's face goes blank, and he stiffens up the second Undyne moves beside him.  "Hey.  Don't vouch for this loser.  I'm in the middle of handing his ass to him, okay?"

       I step to the other side of Aaron and nudge him.  "aaron, buddy oh pal, there's this sayin that you never leave a friend hangin . .  you remember, i was helping a kid home, right?"

       "Why you little . ."  Undyne shoots me daggers with her eye, but then she quickly beams up at the slightly taller monster.  "Hey, so, you wanna go?"

       "Uh . . ."  Aaron looks down at us nervously and winks.  "Depends . . where?"

       "To find out what my hit and miss ratio is, of course!  Because . . if you even _think_ about lying for this pipsqueak . . ." Her eye glints, and suddenly, I feel like drinks.  Yes, and a bottle of ketchup.  "Hey, relax!  I was only joking!!"  She laughs, and she pats Aaron on the back a little too hard and he falls forward.  Heh, make that two bottles.

       And I'm really starting to feel like shit because I didn't think she'd scare him this bad.  But really, I didn't think at all, I just acted on impulse and dragged him into this and even for me, that was low.  I'll have to make it up to him sometime, maybe flip his bill one of these days at Grillby's.

       "He's not lying."

       Fuck, make that a full course at MTT's.

       I look over at Undyne, and she's studying his face closely.

       Aaron smiles, patting me on the shoulder.  "I swear, I wasn't trying to be a creep, but I scared the kid and they ran.  Sans was on his way to his station and was nice enough to bring the kid home."

       He winks, and the truth is, I'm going to owe Aaron a lot more than just a free meal.  I still barely know him . . and yet he's . . well, he's a better monster than I could ever be.  A genuine nice guy.

       "They?"

       Aaron freezes and winks.  He's becoming nervous again . . .

       "Uh . . yeah.  Didn't ask if boy or girl."

       Undyne nods, and man, she ain't gonna buy this.  But to my surprise, she waves her hand, dismissing him.  "Okay, okay, I believe you.  But me and Sans here have to be somewhere, so you, me, strong man contest, yes?"

       At the sound of that, Aaron's face lights up, and both of them start flexing their muscles at each-other and wow.  Is anyone down here normal?

       "Okay.  But I won't lose . . ."  Aaron gives her a final wink and leaves, and Undyne pumps her fist in the air.

       "Lose?  You'll lose both your dignity AND your pride, all in one, wrapped up in a nice little bow as I PUMMEL your words right back at you!"

       The second he's gone, Undyne's smile disappears and the air thins.  I was hoping to make this easier, but I guess, there's no sweeping this under the rug.

       "So.  Boy or girl?  How old was the kid?  What kind of monster?  Who were the kid's parents?  Don't tell me you just left the kid unattended.  And more importantly,  _why_  did you abandon post?"

       She crosses her arms again, and she looks . . _disappointed._

       "well, like i said, i was on break―"  
**_  
(_** ** _T͟he da̧rk place ̴is g͝et͏t͏i̧n͏g̴ clo͏s̸e̶r_** ** _.)_**

       "Bullshit, Sans!  Stop TRYING to make me mad when I'm TRYING to be level with you.  I mean, I'm REALLY trying Sans, and I know Papyrus says you're pretty low on HP, but I will  _STILL_   _B R E A K_  YOU IF YOU DON'T KNOCK. IT.  _OFF!"_

       I'm slammed against the wall, pinned by both shoulders and turning on my magic.

**_(mEMorIE̴S̨, T̷hey ͡FEED̵ feed . . ͏.̢)  
_**        There's no point.  She won't hurt me, but she's still crushing me and hell if it hurts.  She won't let off the pressure, and it's completely out of no where that she slams me again.

       "Sans!  You DO realize that I am your superior, right?  If I thought for a moment this was an act of treason, I could have you sent to prison―"  

       "then  ** _do it."_**

       My words are venom, accusing, and hell, I didn't want to say them.  What is  _WRONG_  with me?  So much about today is wrong, and I just want it all―but I don't―   

****_"Is that a _challenge?"__ ** **

**_(W̶̨̢̛̻h̵̗̳͚̲͉̪̬͉̻y͏̫̲̱̻͡?͢҉̸͞҉͎̜  ̴̴̛͈̣̻̺̘͍͎̜͞͝  ̨͜͜͞͏̭W̴̡͕̱͠ h̴̭̬̟̱̝̭͞ y̶̶̱̺̱͓͔̩̩̜͇̳͔̗̱͞ ̡̧͔̱̲͢͞ͅ ̷̡̨͈̫͙)_** ****

       I shut off my magic.  "no, ma'am . . i mean, i don't―"

       Her eye narrows and she slams me again, this time, pushing off of me and backing up.  "The name's _Undyne,_ and I _thought_ we were friends."  I feel her frustration, and I'm afraid.  I'm sick.  And Frisk is psychic.  This was  _definitely_  more than ten minutes.  I need to get out of here.  Frisk is alone with a lunatic.  Frisk  _needs_  me, and I still have to go see―

       "And in all the time I've known you, even with you being lazy, you've _never_ left your work to Papyrus."

       My soul crushes.

         _ **(―eb ll'ew dnA  .ni dellup gnieb er'eW)**_  
            _(What?  What is this **F̄̑̀ͯ̚**_ ** _E̯ͅE͍͖̫L̡͢͢I̷͢N̕G͎̦?̱̹͕̺)_**

**"You made it up, didn't you.  Sans, even for you, this is low.  I hate to say it, but you've barely managed to scrape by as it is.  You're holding three jobs, all under me, and you're constantly taking unauthorized breaks, sleeping on the job, and on top of all that?** _**Papyrus worked twice as hard to cover for you.** _ **It was** _**pathetic** _ **Sans.** _**He's trying so hard to live up to everyone's standards, but most of all, he'd rather take the blame to cover for your mistake even if it means he's risking his chance at joining the guard."** _

_"I'm going to be a BIG hero someday!  Just you wait Sans!  I will have ALL of the respect of monster-kind, and everyone will know how amazing I am!"_

_"papyrus, i'm not so―well, i mean, if that's what you want, i believe in you.  hey, why don't we go make you a hero costume, make it official?"_

**"I mean, he tries, and he tries, and you know how much he wants to impress you.  But he doesn't understand why you're like this, and honestly, I'm starting to lose my respect for you.  I HATE that I can't pay Papyrus for warrior training, because you and me both know he wouldn't make it as a guard.  He's too** _**nice.** _ **If a human fell down, _he'd get himself killed._  I don't want to think of that, ever.  He may be weird, but he's** _**Papyrus.**_ **He's a little self-centered, but he's** _**sincere."** _

_"Lazy bones!  Pick up your dirty socks!  And for the love of―SANS!  You didn't do the sheets?"_

_"but i did pick them up."_

_"You merely MOVED them two inches!"_

        _Nervousness permeated from both sides as most of us tried not to touch, or get too close.  We were free, but far from it.  
_  
       God.  DAMN.  And it's almost like I'm seeing things, but wait.  Why would she say _if_ a human fell when Papyrus said _―_

**_"He's out of his mind right now,_  and knowing you, I just don't get why  _you aren't_   _returning his calls."_**  
_  
Most humans lost touch of their magic long ago, but they had something else: hate.  But Undyne and Papyrus were a force to be reckoned with, both overly enthusiastic to the point of hysteria to befriend the humans, although, for Papyrus, it was because he saw the good in absolutely everyone, and for Undyne, all the stories of the humans being a warrior race got her hyped for a real fight and the chance to prove herself._

       "i . . stop.   _please . . ."_

        _"stop.  breathe . . ."_

_But the humans were either too preoccupied with their phones or their inner-circle drama to ever really stand a chance in a fight against a monster, which is saying something since a mere **kid** managed to slaughter us all a number of times.  Six years, once upon a time, we all found out more than what we ever needed to know about the humans who trapped us here . ._

        **"SANS!  Are you even LISTENING?"**

****And of course I am!  I'm listening too much, and I can't keep my mind straight.

       I step back.  I can't stay here.  I can't _do_ this.

       "i'm listening, just . . you don't understand.  so please, stop―"

       She closes the gap between us and stares down, both of her hands falling on my shoulders.

_"_ _wait, what're you doing?!"_

_**"DON T BL NK            AB  T TO DO―"**_   
**_8,,don,'',t ,,bl9k4 ,,:at ,i',m ,,ab ,,6,,d'\x2015'`8_ **

_"no, STOP!!"_

       "Then _make_ me."

       I look away.  Her hands are firm, but she's . .

       "MAKE me understand."

       But I can't.

       I've _tried,_ several times.

       No one understands.   **No one _remembers . . ._**

       Once upon a time, I found myself trying to put forth some bit of effort, for Papyrus's sake, for Frisk's sake, hell, even for every other monster's sake, and I tried, but it was hard, waiting with baited breath for the next reset . . a middle schooler calling my kid ugly, calling Toriel a furry momma, and then the real kicker . . calling Papyrus a  ** _retard . ._**  and I wanted to show the little brat just how _ **retarded**_ their scrawny ass was, but then Frisk just held my hand, shook their head.   _"Don't do it.  You'll only be as bad as they are."_

       Not typical.  My kid was right, and so I only gave a  ** _friendly_**  reminder of what the brat was messing with.  So typical, the kid  _ **never**_  messed with us again.  Not typical, Undyne was shaking her head, saying the kid was just being stupid.  Typical, **_I felt the shame crawl down my back._**

_8,,"o ,,child,'',s ,,pa9 ,,w ,,br+ ,a ,,life-,,"t ,,( ,,hope ,,= ,,|r ,,k9d4  ,,rememb} ,,t40_

       "MAKE me understand why you've been acting like this today, and Sans, I'll help you."

                          **_(H͙̳a̡..͉.̜̱͢.̷͖͍̝̻̟̗̹)  
_**

        Slowly, I push her away.

        "i'm tired, undyne . . ."

  
7,,n{ `4 `4 `7

**** _**(You should** _ _**f͢o̶rg̨e͡t͞ about this . . .)** _   
  
_(n{ `ow . .)_ **_  
  
_**

         ** _"and i've been trying to leave everyone else out of it.  so please.  i'm fine.  i'll go . . talk to papyrus, okay?  so please . . ."_**

7,,is ,,t ,,any ,,way ,,6,,tr1t ,a ,,fr87  
  
7,,h ,i ,,n ,,tau<t ,,y ,,bett}8 ,,bad ,,=m1 ,, _sans `4 `4 `7_

 

**_"i'll pick up the pace...  don't fire me."_ **

  
**7,i ,,am very very di4appo9t$7**  
  
  
**Human Trivia**  
  
  


        Emission of light from the bioluminescent marsh land and its flora provide their last fading glow as we come closer to shore.  The riverperson steadies the boat, which is being rocked by the wind hurling in from the outside.  You face the glistening town, Christmas lights a distant glow as you hold your hands to your chest.  Determination is your chant.  You are still your own person in the end despite your need to include me, and as a snake to the nearest source of warmth, I've found it almost soothing to curl up to your fire.

        You gently tug on the monster's robe, and slowly, they turn their head to face you.  "Mm . . 'cuse me."  You curl your knuckles to your lips, pointing away in another direction.  "Can't go there yet.  Sans is still . . ."  Your voice trails off in thought as your head lulls back towards Snowdin.  Another series of coughs and sneezes wrack your body, and without moving your finger, you wipe your nose on your shoulder.

        The riverperson chuckles, dual voice like a surge of electricity shooting through our souls.

        "Where would you like to go?  Tra la la!"

        We smile and exchange looks.  I shrug, rolling my eyes as you lick your lips and laugh.  You tap your chin in thought, and suddenly, you point up.  "There!  And I'm bringing EVERYONE with me!"

        My smile fades.  The feeling of irony is sickeningly sweet.  It's déjà vu all over again, the same damn pity, no . . curiosity that keeps us here.

        "What a wonderful dream . . ." the monster concedes, and I too think of how wonderful it would be to go there . . but **_not_** to see the flowers.   ** _Such disgusting creatures, humanity, doesn't deserve to see the light of day._** "But sadly, one as foolish as time, for there are always those who will be left behind."

        "What do you mean?" you ask, stubborn as always.  "I know I have to stay strong, for everyone, not just myself.  But . . if I have the power to change a world, not just time, then why can't I find a way to bring the dead back again?  I mean, I know how to go back and bring back the people I've . . but for everyone else . . I've seen it done before!  With Asriel―"

        "Humans, monsters and flowers . . tra la la . . _have I not told ye this once before?"_  Their tone is harsh, biting, and catches us both off guard.  The river person pushes off with a little more force than necessary, causing the boat to tip forward.  Once steady, we start to float towards Hotland.  I recognize the path instantly, and a feeling of both pride and nausea begin to fill me.

        You grab my hand, gently holding my soul between cold fingers.  "Yes, but, even though we're different, aren't we the same at heart?"  This time, they don't look.  Instead, they stare forward, thinking.  "I mean, couldn't I just find a way to bring everyone back and let everyone have their own happy ending?"

        This time, it is the riverperson who brings their hand to their chest.

        "Tra la la . . la la la la . . Our bodies are not everlasting, child.  Human child, and little specter, a monster, I am, a body of magic gathered from the natural forces that surround us all.  Tra la la . .  So listen.  Mistake me not when I say there is a chasm that separates our worlds, for there is, my angels, a connection that has our hearts beat as one, however . . a monster's soul normally only has enough determination to latch onto this world for mere moments after death.  By nature, we are more understanding, 'tis why it is unnatural for a monster's soul to stay scattered across the void.  Alas, a human's soul is different, much more stubborn, much less accepting, thus is able to withstand for as long as their body endures, 'tis why, with a much more determined soul, the very fabric of space can be altered."

        There is a pregnant pause, enough to let what they said sink in.  I try to squeeze your hand, but surprisingly, this time, I slip right through.  I start to panic, but you smile anyway, and wrap your other arm around mine.  It's soothing.  I look away, remembering the first time I held my brother's hand, and for a moment, I could've _sworn_ I saw a yellow flower . .

        "Ye powers are taken from a place ye have no control, and if ye are not careful, _it WILL swallow ye whole._  'Tis why it is unnatural to play with Death, my angels.  'Tis how the world maintains its balance, by assuring there is order by separating the dead from the living, and though ye can turn back the time, there will always be the consequence for frivolous and blind determination."

        "What our . .  _friend_ is saying . ." I begin, staring up at the back of the riverperson's hood, "is that I will always be left behind, that there is a reason you can't just bring back anyone, and until I can find the other pieces of my soul, I will stay broken, the same with Asriel and . . the others.  But even then, we can't stay together.  Even then, the dead _cannot_ be saved."

        The darkness envelops us.  We're still too far from Hotland to see the industrial lights or the magma with its uncomfortable waves of heat, but from the way you're covering your nose, I can tell the smell of sulfur is becoming strong.  Which is saying something, given how weak your body is with a cold.

        _"You really are determined, Chara!  Honey, aren't they the bravest 'monster' you've ever seen?"_  
  
        I remember the times I was brought to the lab that would later rest in the core, how Mom made me wear a mask so I wouldn't have to breathe it in.

       _"'She', dear, Chara is a 'she', and my child, are you sure about all this?  You needn't lie to me.  If there is something wrong . . you can tell me."_

        She was always worrying about my health, always popping in during my visits to the royal scientist and never catching wind of what was really going on.

_"Oh!  Tori, there is nothing wrong!  Just take a look at her!  Our little Chara here is the hope of all monsterkind!"_

        But more than anything, I didn't know _how_ to give my family the 'hope' they so desperately needed when I barely had enough for myself.  So I did the only thing I could, and I never once regretted my decisions, and it became the only way I knew how to punish myself for what I am.

        It's funny.  I guess I was always _**sick.**_

        "I don't believe that's true."

        Both me and the riverperson look at you, and I shake my head.  A bitter laugh escapes my lips, and I close my eyes.  It must be so hard being a child forever.

        "I mean, I can only rewind everything so far . . but still . . If you're telling me I can't bring the dead back before that time, then . . I . . _I believe you._  But what I DON'T believe is that anyone is truly left behind!"

        "Hmm?  What was that, my little star?  Tra la la . .  You speak in riddle and rhyme but give not the time nor proper clues to decipher their meaning."

        "Oh, I'm sorry!"  You giggle, spinning around on one foot and shaking the boat in the process.  "But that's easy!  Even if Chara and Asriel and all the other dead monsters are left here in the underground, just like the human children before me, I believe LOVE will help bring light into the darkness!"  Suddenly, there's an orange light behind you as we come closer to the apartments, and I watch in awe as it forms a halo around your head.  "And as for me, I really WILL take everyone with me!  Even if it's just in heart, Chara, I promise . . I'll NEVER leave you behind."

        _"Those flowers got him really sick._ _I felt so bad.  We made Mom really upset.  I should have laughed it off, like you did.._ _Um, anyway, where are you going with this?"  
_  
        _"Turn it off."_

_"Huh?_ _Turn off the camera . . ?  Okay."_

_"I need you to tell me something."_

        _"Sure.  Um, what is it?"_

_"Do you trust me?"_

The answer was no, but he was too nice to ever say it.  Asriel was clutching the camera to his chest like a teddy bear, and I felt a tinge of guilt for what I was about to ask him, but no regret.  He would never leave me.

        The riverperson hums their own tune, and suddenly, I can see the apartments come into view.  I remember, back before the core was built, being told how there'd have to be houses built to accommodate all the workers who'd be working there.  With a steady flux of power, it was possible to make Hotland a more suitable living area for even more species of monster than before, and over-crowding wouldn't be as much of a problem.  But this is the first time I've ever seen them up close.

        It's sad.  They're still too closely stacked.  It's not like Waterfall or Snowdin where the houses are spaced apart.  These hardly leave enough room to move.  Silently, I wonder whether this is the reason Sans moved himself and his brother to Snowdin and took on three jobs.

        "Tra la la . . . What I believe, does not matter, la la la la . . ." the riverperson says.  Their voice is a sad song carrying through a solemn city, and suddenly, I grab their hand at the same time you grab their other hand.

        "That's not true," you reassure them, and at the same time, I watch a monster kid run from their mother, tripping and falling.  The good mother kisses her little runaway, and suddenly, I pat the riverperson's arm with my free hand.

        "It . . matters . . ." I say, slowly.  "To yourself, to Frisk, and . . and me . . ."

        They shudder, letting out a long, contented sigh.  "T-thank you, for that."  As we close in on the shore, the riverperson starts to park their boat.  "He will find us here . . soon.  It will be soon."

        "Tra la la!" you sing.

        "Tra la la . . ." echoes their quiet voice.

         _"Chara.. w-why.. are you asking me that?"_

_"You tremble and shake like the others."_

_"Wait, Chara!  I_ ― _"_

Both of us take our seat in front of the taller river monster.  "Hey, Frisk."

        "Mm?" you respond, taking your hand and messing up your hair some more.  I give you a look, and you smile back at me.  "What?  I already said I'm going to be a fashion monster.  Don't I look fancy?"

        I grin, shaking my head.  "You look stupid."

        "That is not very nice, little one.  Tra la la.  For a change, shall we play another game?"

        I sigh, falling back so I can stare up at the high ceiling.  "Sure.  Why not?  I have time to **kill."**

        You scrunch up your nose, shutting your eyes and rubbing at them.  "I don't feel so good," you say, and I slap the back of your head.  "Ow!  Don't _do_ that!"

        I laugh, and it looks like I can touch you again.

        The river monster is staring deep into my soul, and suddenly, I feel self-conscious.

        "S-sorry," I say, even though the words are empty, "but don't whine!  It―it hurts my ears!"

        "Fine," you mutter, bringing your knees up to your chest and letting out a groan.  "Can I ask questions then?"

        "No, you may not," I answer.

        You grin.  "Too bad!  I'll ask them anyway."

        "Tra la la.  Then ask away, little one."

        You stick out your tongue at me, and I turn my back to you.  "Then ask away, little one . . ." I echo back.

        "I'll ask them anyway," you repeat in a singsong voice.  "Um . . gonna . . try this again.  Hi!  What's _your_ name?"

        The riverperson chuckles dryly.  "Tra la la . . Have I not said a time ago how it matters not?"

        "Okay then!  Sir'ma'am you remain!"

        I slap my forehead, and this earns the riverperson a loud, boisterous laugh that carries throughout the cavern.  Several monsters stop and stare, the same monster kid who fell down not too long ago clutching their mother's arm.  "Oh!  Okay then.  Tra la la!  My name is . ."

        Several moments pass.  It becomes obvious that you were pranked.

        "Hey!"  You cross your arms and scrunch up, like a poofball.  "That's not funny!"  And I laugh, rolling my eyes and jumping into your body to force you to fix your hair.  "MY FASHION!"

        "Your friend is laughing," the riverperson teases, and as I step out of your body, you quickly go back to messing up your hair.  "Tri li li."

        "Traitor," you bite back, and I simply wave you off.

        "I'm on my own, kid.  Just another passerby driftin' through town an' hopin' to make a name for myself."

        "Fine."  You stomp your foot.  The boat shakes.  "FIIIIINE."

        _("The riverperson is steadying their boat with magic and trying to figure out why you're acting three.")_

        You shoot me a glare.   _"Fine fine fine . ._ _nope."_

        "Yeah, whatever."

        "NOPE!  Next question.  Why do you . ."  You pause, suddenly, the spark in your eyes becoming dim as you look down at your feet.  "Why do you . . sir'ma'am . . ?  Why  do  you   _like_  me  so  much?"

        Your pain starts to resonate through me.  It's a question I've had for a while as well, and I feel . . annoyed.  I hate sharing your pain.  But most of all, I can't stand to see you cry.

_"Stop crying.  You're so sweet, Asriel . .  Repeat.  Big kids don't cry."_

_". . Big kids don't cry."_

_"That's good . .  You understand me, then?"_

        You wipe your nose on Sans's sleeve at the same time you let out another series of weak coughs, and you slowly look up at the riverperson only to look away again.

        "You know . . what I've . . _done_ . . but still . . and even . . if you couldn't . . _see it_ , I mean, you . . you had to know when . .  So then why―"

        "Tra la la!  The taxi is here, ride in my boat, a hundred _**THANKS**_ is _**FORCED**_ **_out of kindness . ._** but take me seriously, they _cannot,_ and break me heart in the process."

        Their voice is shaking, accent changing once again as they stare out at the passing monsters.

        "Tra la la!  They lost their mind, **_THEY LOST THEIR MIND,_** but me SOUL is crying in anguish.  Not a single soul, gentle or no, would want . . to be friends with Charon."

        Slowly, the riverperson turns around to face us.

        "That is, until the day these b r i g h t young souls climbed aboard me boat and showed me what is kindness."

        Their voice is soft, much softer than we've ever heard it.

        "And it wasn't polite pity."  They sigh.  "It was warm . . . ."

        You jump into their arms, wrapping around them tightly.  "Sir'ma'am, if you're crazy, then we'll be crazy together, okay?  But really?  I think you're just lonely, and I'm sorry you feel this way."

        Slowly, they lift up an arm to hug you back.

        "Tra la la . . . ."

        And I can't tell, but it almost sounds like the riverperson is crying.

        "The souls . . of the others . . . I remember two, one little human who liked to dance, and one who liked to talk about food instead.  It was that little one who ran from Waterfall, jumped aboard me boat and tried pushing me off.  I laughed and activated me magic, and the child thanked me in Hotland, oh . . . but not before we had _conversation."_  
          
        Before I can even think about what I'm doing, I'm standing even closer and lightly stroking their hand.  I still can't see it very well, just like how their face is too heavily shadowed, or maybe . . _cloaked_ with magic.  I can't touch them, but the riverperson still shivers in response.

        "The lost queen cared for the fallen child until they ran from the ruins, too scared to hold a knife, taking the frying pan instead."  The riverperson shudders, wracked with another useless fit of tears.  "Oh, but a patron upon me boat spoke of how the king just procured another soul in Hotland, and  it  was  a  cold,   _cold_   day  in  Hotland . . . ."

        Suddenly, you pull away, holding onto the fabric of their cloak.  "I'm . . going to tell you something.  Sans . . once asked me something, and I think you should hear it, too."  You look up into the vast emptiness of their hood and smile.  "I don't remember how it went exactly, but, 'If you have the power to change something, like you have some sort of special power, isn't it _your_ responsibility to do good?'  You did EVERYTHING you could.  You mattered SO MUCH to them, and your kindness gave them hope.  Your KINDNESS was there with them until the end.  That's doing something.  You _made_ a difference."

        "Tra la la . . Ye are well aware of my opinion on _**him."**_

        The riverperson stands up, and you try to pull them back down.

        "But―"

        "Scaring the likes of a child . . over― _H͈̭͙̯̣͘OW̹̦̕ ̺͙̩̙̪̱̗M͜A̴̮͇̦N̬̦̭̩̣̦̱͜Y͏̫͓͕͚?_ ―years old with all the added timelines―"

        "He's not perfect!   _No one is . . ."_

        I flinch.  That voice was definitely wrong.  I try shaking it off, just as you wipe some more tears with the back of Sans's sleeve.  You regret it, staring at his jacket for a moment before trying to wipe it off.

        "He's in pain . . . and I wasn't helping.  Sir'ma'am!  If I EVER take the love from another person again only to hurt them just because I'm sad, or just because I want to  _know_  what will happen, then I DESERVE to be punished!"

        They flinch, placing their other hand on their oar and looking away, but you're determined.  You take back their hand and rip it away.

        "Humans are selfish, and we can't feel the emotions of another person's soul like you can, but we can still tell if someone else if feeling bad if we just _try._  And the whole point of living, I believe, is to _try_ and be the best that you can be."

        "What a wonderful thing for you to say . . ." the riverperson mumbles.  
      
        You squeeze their hand.

        "Look at me.  Please."

        They oblige, sighing in defeat.

        "I am looking, little one."

        "Most humans can't see the souls of the living, just like how most monsters and humans can't see the souls of the dead, but still . ."  You smile, again, flicking your eyes between me and the riverperson.  "Just like how not every monster is good, not every human is bad, and just like how I can make mistakes, Sans . . _he . . ."_

        I feel a pain in my chest again, and I look around frantically.

        _"Speaking of that skeleton, what the **hell** is taking him so long?"_

        "He was there for me . . even when I was sick with guilt, scared he remembered, scared he was judging me . . every birthday, every science fair, my first double decker and learning to ride a bike . . I even . . remember the very  first  time we reached the surface . . even though that took so   _long_   to remember . . but I was the ambassador for monsters.  That time, my foster mom called me her 'celebrity child'.  I was ten, I think?  Oh, and Chara, I think I know why you sent us all back that second time."

        I doubt that, is what I don't say.  Instead, I look at everywhere but you.

        "I missed your hypocrisy and your perverted sentimentality?"

        And again, it looks like a yellow flower . . but it's ** _just in_** _**my head . . .**_

        You scoff, placing your hand over your heart.

        "No . . _You_ were just mad because you missed my fourteenth birthday!  Or maybe, you just hated that I was finally older than you―"

        "That's a lie and you know it!"

        Both of you start to giggle, and I groan.  This couldn't  _get_  more stupid.  I _**hate**_ this timeline.

        "Take it back!"

        "But it  _REFUSED!"_

        I try shoving you, but to my horror, I trip and fall right through.  Luckily, I'm talented and pirouette right before I can fall off the boat, and that's when I hear you snicker.  I feel my cheeks heating up, and so I growl, "YOU get back to your story, feeling RUDE for getting off track!"

        You stick out your tongue, and then grin up at the river monster.

        _"I_ was learning sign language so _I_ could do my _OWN_  translations and speak with the deaf."  You pause.  Suddenly your smile disappears, but as soon as it does, you're wearing another.  "I . . I mean, since most of my friends were always there for me during my confere― . . _confer . . en―?_ . . c-conferences!  There!  Um . . I asked Sans and Papyrus if they'd like to learn it with me."

        "Tra la la . . _**Frisk,**_ had they ever spoke in hands to ye before?"

        I blink.

        "Um . . W-Well . . that's the . . t-that's the t-thing, s-sir'ma'am . . ."

        _"Tra la la . . **Beware the man who speaks in hands . . ."**_

        Suddenly, something doesn't feel right.

        _("Frisk.  We need to go.")_

        But you're just standing there.  I can take over your body, but if you're not wanting to move . . .

        You're playing with your hands.  "I-I . . I mean they . . they just _looked_  at each-other?"

        _("Frisk, there's something wrong.  We HAVE to go―")_

        "And then the lights in Sans's eyes disappeared, and P-Papyrus, he quickly apologized and that's when S-Sans, he said that they . . that they s-shouldn't?  But then Papyrus said that they were my friends, and that they needed to be honest with me."

        I turn just in time to catch that flicker of yellow, and it is!  It IS _HIM!_

"So he said that he didn't remember learning it, and that they didn't feel right using it, but then he quickly waved his hands and said how they're both perfectly alright with others using it and thought it was wonderful to be able to speak in hands!"

        I kick your shin, but you don't stop.

        "Everyone should have a voice, after-all―"

        **"Tra la la . . _not_ what I asked, little one."**

        Yellow flower, tilting his head, smiling with dazed eyes as he stares at me―

        "I-I mean . . yes?  But I didn't KNOW their magic was like―or that they could―but I mean . . I went _quiet_ for a whole week trying to get Sans to let up!  I wasn't being fair!  And just . . one day . . I was signing, as usual, letting Sans have it when he finally rolled his eyes.  I asked him 'you understand?', and then he signed 'clear', and then everything went white, and I couldn't _think,_ and I woke up in the hospital."

        The riverperson is shaking, and when I look back, Asriel's **_gone._**

        "The police were asking me questions, but I just wanted to see Sans . .  I was told I couldn't see him, but . . I wanted to see him.  So I snuck out later that night, and he was on the hill in our spot.  He was so _surprised,_ and he hugged me, and it was the first time I ever saw him cry.  He said he didn't mean it!  He―"

        Suddenly, the river monster grabs you.

        **"I told ye to _BEWARE_ the man who speaks in hands! _Have ye no mercy left, my child, for yeself?"_**

        You go numb in their arms.

        "But, I―"

        And they shake you.

        **_"Not ONLY the man from another world is reaching . . ."_**

        And you're breathing, _**hard.**_

****The riverperson sees this and lets go, sitting down, and placing a hand over their face.

        "T-they speak . . _with hands . ._ and those who _**FEARED**_ their _CONSEQUENCE_ would whisper to the flowers before _they_ left upon their own current . . ."

        They pause.  They're still trying and failing not to shake.

        "'Sleep' could mean ye sleep forever.  'Talk' could make a mouth speak more than the words one would want to hear, and 'stop' could break the very soul in half and **_turn ye into dust."_**

        Their voice hiccups as they begin to cry.

        "But ye . . _you . ._ have a physical form . . that bleeds . . **_stains the earth with yer offering of crimson . ._** Tra la la . . a star so bright . . extinguished . . until ye turn back the time, and the time nods its head in _**acceptance."**_

        "I'm . . please, _stop._  It's going to be okay.  I'm still me, _okay?_   I'm going to fix everything!"

        "Oh, but ye see, that was never up to a child to fix . . ."  They sigh, lifting their head slightly as they place a hand on one of yours.  "But the universe cares not for good nor evil, does it?  Only for its continued existence―"

        "Oh!  But you see, that's funny!  For a second there, I thought you were talking about something else!"

        I'm shaking, and it takes a minute before I realize, I said that out loud.  Your eyes so big, that it's comical.  I can't help it.  I laugh.

        "But no, that isn't right, is it!?  Humanity, **we're worse.** We've slaughtered thousands, of our own kind AND monsters!  So, what the _hell_ was our excuse _this_ time?"

        I'm crying, but I'm laughing so hard.

        "THEY CAN STEAL OUR SOULS!   _THEY_ WILL STEAL THE SOULS OF EVERYONE WE LOVE!"

        Flowey's back, and I crumble at the **_PEST_** who likes to **_WATCH!_**

****"In my world, it was **everyone** **for _themselves . . ."_** I tear my eyes from him and stare into your own.  "So, how do you think _I_ felt when for the first time in my life, I was treated like a person?"

I shudder.  I am so  _stupid . ._ because even though it's pointless, I _can't_ stop . . .  
_  
_         "But even with your capacity to empathize far beyond the level of what us humans as a whole could ever hope to achieve," and at this, I look up at the riverperson, "monsters can still choose to act, right, act in a way that ignores how much another is suffering?"

        Suddenly, it's the doctor, Sans standing next to him, stiff, not like his usual self.  I look down at my feet.

_"h-hey . . there.  so, i―let's just get to the point.  the dt machine?  . . so, you're dying, and that stuff we extracted?  well, as it turns out . . but hey!  we're making some real progress, so don't you worry!  uh, dr. gaster and i were talking and_ _―"  
_  
        And then I remember him moving forward, taking his hands from his pockets as he formed weird hand signs.  At first, it felt like a cool breeze, but then, it was like something cooler was traveling inside me . . .

        "I felt pain."

_Prickling needles, a sensation of being ripped apart . . ._

        "And I'll tell you . . . I wasn't EXPECTING all that PAIN!"

        A searing hot pain, shooting throughout my body . . and Sans just stood there, the only scientist who at least  _pretended_  to care, same smile, same dark eyes as if he were just a cadaver placed as a prop.

"For a moment, I even found myself back on the flowerbed I fell on, the buttercups were wet, and then, back on the cold, metal floor, I realized, I was bleeding."

        Dr. Gaster shook his head, finally shuffling through the drawers and pulling out a needle.   _I didn't want it._

        "The world is cruel," I breathe, and as I look up, there's not a flower in sight.  "Everything is filthy and ugly and that is why . . ."

_"You're just an ugly little bitch._ _Bark like a bitch, dog!  Woofwoofwoof!_ _"_

         **"I _HATE_ IT!!"**

        It's cold . . four arms failing to trap me in an embrace.

        _"I SAID NO!  CHARA_ _―_ _"_

        I scream out, because I was choking him . . . **_and I was FILLED with remorse.  
_**

 

 

_**(But you refused)** _

_**(Move forward)** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "SO ALL THAT REMAINS"  
> WRITTEN: REDACTED  
> CHARACTERS: REDACTED  
> UNDERTALE © ANNOYING DOG
> 
>  
> 
> (SOMETHING LOST EQUALS SOMETHING GAINED)
> 
> (SUBTRACT, ADD . . )
> 
>  
> 
> (WE HAVE BEEN WAITING A LONG TIME FOR THIS SANS . . )
> 
>  
> 
> "DON'T BLINK. WHAT I'M ABOUT TO DO―"
> 
>  
> 
> "ONE CHILD'S PAIN WILL BRING A LIFE-TIME OF HOPE FOR OUR KIND. REMEMBER THAT."
> 
>  
> 
> (NOW . . )
> 
> (NOW . . )
> 
>  
> 
> (IS THAT ANY WAY TO TREAT A FRIEND?)
> 
> (HAVE I NOT TAUGHT YOU BETTER? BAD FORM, SANS . . )
> 
>  
> 
> (I AM VERY, VERY DISAPPOINTED)
> 
>  
> 
> As for the backwards text...
> 
> I don't think I ever expressed how beautiful you all are, so here, have some stars
> 
> -throws sparkles-


End file.
